


The Tide Will Turn

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence AU, Canon deaths, Director Shepard out for revenge, Established Relationship, Gibbs returns from Mexico, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men in love, Smart!Tony, Tony as lead agent, Undercover, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: Tony is recruited by Director Shepard to get close to an arms dealer's daughter while Gibbs is in Mexico. By the time Gibbs returns Tony is ready to quit. Together they become embroiled in Shepard's revenge plot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penumbria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/gifts).



> This takes place in early season 4. I have compressed some canon events and skimmed over (or ignored) others. Takes off on an AU tangent.  
> Any deaths are canon to the show, though not necessarily under the same circumstances or timeline. None of the primary characters are unduly hurt.  
> Some dialog from the show has been integrated into this story.
> 
> A partial list of what my recipient asked for: Smart competent Tony, maybe he’s thinking of leaving NCIS, or with his own team, some h/c.
> 
> A big thank you goes out out my Beta!

**THE TIDE WILL TURN**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/137691511@N03/24594412057/in/album-72157691847475405/)

_“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you till it seems you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.”  
_ _– Harriet Beecher Stowe_

 _Tide Turns_  
_by Phish_

 _You don't have to be alone,_  
I'll still always be here for you.  
Together we can make it through,  
We've got time, yes we do.  
  
I'll wait with you till the tide turns,  
Yes I will.  
I'll wait with you till the tide turns,  
I'll wait with you till the tide turns,  
‘Til the tide turns...

  

**CHAPTER 1**

ooOoo

 

Going undercover at the same time you were running the MCRT was a lot to ask of anyone, but that’s exactly what Director Shepard was expecting of him. Actually, she didn’t _ask_. Instead, she leaned across her desk, exhibiting a generous amount of cleavage, and informed Tony she had some special undercover work for him to do. And she said it in a way that made it clear she wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

“I want you to do a job for me, Special Agent DiNozzo. You’ll be going undercover. There’s a man I need you to track down.”

 

The way the director posed it, the success of this op would be a great boost to his career. She had chosen him specially, she said. He was the only person she could trust to get in and do the job right. “I want you to take down an international arms dealer,” she said. “He’s known by the name la Grenouille.”

 

“Grenouille? Like a frog? And you want me to…do _what_ with him?” Tony asked cautiously.

 

The director gave a small derisive laugh and shook her head. “As much as I want the Frog dead and buried, we need to interrogate him first. It’s impossible to get close to him though. His people handle everything for him so he can keep his hands clean. Nobody can pin anything on him.”

 

La Grenouille had been playing all sides, she went on to say, arranging major heists and selling heavy arms to Abu Sayyaf, Hizballah, the Palestinians, and the Columbians. The latest intel said he was making deals on U.S. soil, and all the alphabet agencies were after him.

 

“I want to get him first. Your number one priority is to locate la Grenouille, and when you do, I’ll give you further orders,” said Shepard.

 

“Who’s my backup?”

 

“You’re on your own, but I’m here as support,” she said firmly. “It’s important this is kept strictly between us, Special Agent.”

 

This was a matter for more than one man. Obviously the arms dealer was dangerous and had to be brought to justice, so why not get a team together to work on it? It sounded like this assignment was personal to the director. Tony had a bad feeling about the director’s request, and he considered turning it down. On the other hand, if NCIS could catch this Frog… Damn, this was one of those times he needed someone to talk to, and with Gibbs still recuperating in Mexico, there was nobody he could turn to.

 

Mentioning Gibbs’ name to the director was like waving a red rag in front of a bull, but Tony had to do it anyway. “Why don’t we get Gibbs back here, to work with us on this? We could really use the extra hand on deck,” he reasoned. Not that he was at all sure Gibbs was willing to come back anytime soon. It was already late August. He’d been gone for almost four months, and they were starting to worry that he had retired for real.

 

“Gibbs? No! He isn’t here. I am. _You_ are,” Shepard said, raising her voice. “I’m giving _you_ this job, DiNozzo. You’ve proven yourself to be one of my best agents, and this is right up your alley. I don’t understand – I was counting on you. Unless you think you can’t handle it…?”

 

As much as Tony would have liked to have Gibbs there, it wasn’t like he _had_ to have him on his six. Tony sighed. Right now it seemed as if Director Shepard was the only person in the western hemisphere who believed in his abilities. He was tired of expecting Gibbs to turn up and oust him from his temporary position as supervisory special agent. Tony had been trying to live up to Gibbs’ reputation, to do what Gibbs would do, but it had been a difficult road. He’d been itching to prove himself for a while, and he’d be more in his element when out in the field, so after a brief inner struggle he said, “I can handle it, Director. Sign me up.”

 

The director looked pleased by his response, and Tony caught a glimpse of relief, too. She nodded and said, “Good. I’ve been watching you closely, Agent DiNozzo, and you’ve been running the MCRT exceptionally well these past few months. You’ve maintained a good closure rate, too. And I’ve noticed that your leadership skills have improved. You had some difficulty handling Liaison Officer David and Special Agent McGee at first, but I’m pleased to see you’ve managed to rein them in.”

 

“I believe we’ve reached an understanding,” Tony said, wondering if she knew the half of what had gone on between him and the team since Gibbs had gone. Right from the start, Ziva and McGee had dragged their heels, making it clear they wanted Gibbs to come back, and that they weren’t taking orders from Tony.

 

Ziva had been blunt: “You can not stand in Gibbs’ shoes!”

 

Tony had been just as blunt in return: “Gibbs gave me the team. The director confirmed it. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

 

It wasn’t long before Tony had had enough of their antics, and he’d come down hard on them. They’d learned to work with him instead of against him, but it had been a struggle.

 

Director Shepard unlocked a filing cabinet and pulled out a sizable file. “You will continue to work on MCRT cases while you’re on this assignment, Special Agent DiNozzo.”

 

“At the same time?” Undercover required you immerse yourself in the work, to become the person you were playing. Anything less than total immersion was bound to be a distraction.

 

“Is there some kind of problem?” Shepard asked sweetly.

 

Tony explained his concerns, but the director waved them away, pointing out she’d done her fair share of undercover work, and she knew he could handle doing both simultaneously. It wasn’t as if the outside job would be full-time, she added. “You will report directly to me. I don’t want to see any paper trail. And remember, it’s of vital importance that nobody knows you’re doing this extra-curricular work for me.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Especially not Gibbs.”

 

That stopped Tony in his tracks. He couldn't lie to Gibbs, even if it was by omission. Not that it was likely he’d have the opportunity to tell his boss anything, considering they’d had no communication since he’d walked out on them back in May. Abby had tracked Gibbs to Mike Franks’ place in Baja, but none of them had heard a peep from him since he’d left. Tony had written one long letter, c/o Mike Franks, but had never received any reply. Still, he could never keep anything secret from Gibbs, and if the boss returned and found out he was doing the director’s bidding, there would be a heap of trouble.

 

Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How should I approach la Grenouille?”

 

Shepard slid the heavy file across her desk to Tony. “You’re not going to approach la Grenouille directly. Instead, you’re going to get close to a woman named Jeanne Benoit.”

 

“Close to her?” Tony opened the file and found a photo of lovely young woman smiling at the camera. “Pretty eyes,” he commented.

 

Shepard said dryly, “Don’t let her pretty eyes fool you, Agent DiNozzo. La Grenouille is her father. His real name is René Benoit. His daughter is a doctor, and works in emergency medicine at Monroe University Hospital.”

 

“Here in DC?”

 

“Yes, so you’ll be on familiar ground. You need to find out how she contacts her father. If she calls him, or goes to see him, I want to know immediately. She’s the best hope we have right now of locating him.”

 

“She knows her father’s whereabouts?” Tony looked over the accompanying notes. “This says her parents divorced years ago, and there’s no indication that she’s ever been seen with her father. Does she even know what Daddy does for a living?”

 

“I have no doubt she does. She’s a daddy’s girl,” the director said with a slight sneer. “It will be your job to confirm it.”

 

“What about the ex-wife?”

 

“The FBI are watching her,” Shepard said dismissively.

 

Tony turned over the photo of the smiling doctor, and flipped through several pages of a dossier on la Grenouille. He stopped at a bunch of photos: the aftermath of a bombing at Cairo airport, rubble and bodies everywhere; another photo of several dead US soldiers on a street in Damascus; and a set FBI crime photos from an Army colonel’s suicide, dated ten years ago. Tony turned over a head shot of the colonel in uniform, and saw that the deceased was one Col. Jasper Shepard.

 

Tony quickly looked up at the director, but she was staring out the window. He skimmed over an attached report that said that Col. Shepard, then working at the Pentagon, had committed suicide after being accused of taking bribes. Apparently the colonel had officially verified that a large quantity of weapons had been destroyed, but soon after they ended up back in circulation in the hands of terrorists in the Middle East.

 

“Director? Is this… your father?” Tony asked, holding up the colonel’s headshot. He could tell from the look on Shepard’s face that his assumption was correct.

 

“He was murdered ten years ago, killed by that bastard, la Grenouille. They had the gall to accuse my father of taking a bribe and selling the weapons back to terrorists.” When Shepard spoke, it was as if every word she uttered was painful.

 

Aware of how difficult it must be for her, Tony said gently, “According to this, the FBI concluded that he committed suicide…”

 

Shepard made a sharp motion with her hand, silencing Tony. “It’s a lie. My father was brave and honorable. A patriot. He would _never_ take his own life. It was murder and I know that la Grenouille had something to do with it.”

 

“But…”

 

“Just catch the bastard for me, Agent DiNozzo! I want la Grenouille located, by _any_ means necessary.” The director took a deep breath and collected herself. She plastered a smile on her face, and said softly, “I’m sure you can get close to Dr. Benoit without any problem. Take her out to dinner, take her dancing, take her to _bed_ , but make sure you bug her phone, listen to her messages, look through her laptop. You know the drill, and handle all surveillance yourself. Is that clear?”

 

Tony was pretty sure he knew what ‘any means necessary’ meant. “Yes ma’am. Crystal clear.” For now he’d do the job, but he had no intention of being the director’s fall guy if she decided to take the law into her own hands.

 

Director Shepard was all business as she continued, “Don’t underestimate la Grenouille. He’s as slippery as his nickname, always jumping from one country to another, and he’s dangerous. Intel indicates he’s behind the theft of weapons and explosives from Fort Lee back in March. The ATF and FBI haven’t been able to keep up with him, much less question him. If the CIA has any idea where he is, and I suspect they do, they’re not about to tell us. We’re on our own,” the director told him.

 

“And the SecNav?” Tony prodded, wanting to confirm that the man at the top was being kept in the loop.

 

“I’ll take care of Secretary Davenport. Just report to me, DiNozzo, and everything will be fine.”

 

Shit, it sounded like Director Shepard wasn’t informing SecNav about her personal op – and that meant it was unsanctioned. If things went south, there wouldn’t be anyone around to back Tony up. He had gone into deep cover alone a couple of times before, but there had always been one of his own people monitoring his movements, and they’d had check-ins and set up extraction plans, just in case. Juggling his work with an undercover identity, going back and forth on a daily basis, increased the chance of making a mistake, possibly a deadly one. Tony couldn't enlist his teammates for help, or even tell them what he was doing. Like the rule said, if you want to keep a secret, you don’t tell a third or a fourth person.

 

“Just think,” Shepard said. “When we catch the bastard, we…this _agency_ will get the recognition it deserves…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes focused on something far away. “I’ll get the truth out of him so I can restore my father’s good name.”

 

Tony asked, “Director… Are you sure we don’t want to get Gibbs back for this?” From the way Director Shepard glared at him, he knew he was skating on thin ice, but he wasn’t going to give up easily. “We could work together, just the two of us…”

 

Shepard’s tone was chilly as she eyed Tony. “Special Agent Gibbs is on extended sick leave, and is unlikely to return.”

 

That was the first Tony had heard that Gibbs wasn’t coming back. It sounded like wishful thinking on Shepard’s part. “But Gibbs has a home here, and friends who’re his family. He will be back,” Tony said, as if he knew it for a fact.

 

“It doesn’t matter if he does or not, Special Agent. Gibbs has been erratic, going off on his own like a lone wolf. I’ve known him for years, and I can see the change in him. He’s become secretive and closed off. And ever since his latest injuries, the amnesia, losing time, well, we’ve been concerned about his stability.”

 

Tony wondered who she was trying to convince, because even though Gibbs was badly injured in the massive explosion of the _Bakir Kamir_ back in May, and yes, he’d lost a chunk of his memory, but he wasn’t _crazy_. As far as him being secretive and closed off, Gibbs had never been that way with him. In fact, they’d spent a lot of time together before the _Bakir_ incident. He knew Gibbs far better than the director ever would, no matter what she said.

 

The director was going on about how Gibbs often bent rules, if not outright broke them. The higher-ups did not like any of those things, and his high-handed ways reflected badly on NCIS, and on her. “Gibbs is a dinosaur,” she said derisively. “You _do_ understand that as a reward for being instrumental in the capture of la Grenouille, you’ll earn a promotion: Gibbs’ job.”

 

That was a carrot he wasn’t interested in. “I appreciate your confidence in me ma’am, but I don’t want Gibbs’ job. I mean, he’ll be back; he’ll expect his job back,” Tony said, making it clear he was confident that his boss would return.

 

“What Gibbs expects or wants doesn’t matter. I don’t understand your reluctance, Agent DiNozzo. Maybe you prefer to be a field agent for the rest of your career? Dumpster-diving for evidence? Dragging in scumbags who’ve murdered some poor soldier’s family? I’d have thought you would have had more ambition.” Shepard scrutinized Tony, assessing him. “You’re how old? Thurty-five? You know that there has never been anyone so young supervising the MCRT before. It would put you in line for the director’s chair, and God knows, I won’t remain here for more than two or three more years. Believe me, this seat is only a stepping stone to better things for me. This is your chance, Agent DiNozzo… or perhaps I misjudged you…” She raised an eyebrow and left the sentence hanging.

 

As the director talked, Tony got more and more steamed. She had no clue as to what he wanted. And how dare she casually demean both his and other special agents’ work? If it wasn’t for the field agents, none of their cases would be solved. She was shoving Gibbs aside as if he was nothing! Tony took a deep breath and managed to speak evenly, despite a deep anger simmering below the surface. “I’m grateful you would consider me for a promotion, director. But as far as this op goes, I believe we would benefit from having a qualified team working around the clock, watching each other’s backs–”

 

The director spoke as if she hadn’t heard a word Tony had said. “Of course, I _could_ recruit Agent McGee to do your job. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to prove himself, and he’s a smart young man. I’m not sure he could convince Dr. Benoit he’s boyfriend material, but I might be able to pull some strings and get him into a position where he could get close to la Grenouille. Maybe a missile targeting system designer. It would be dangerous though; Agent McGee _is_ a bit green.”

 

That sounded like a threat, and Tony did not like anyone threatening his people. No way should McGee go undercover. He might be unusually skilled with technology, but he had barely any experience at covert missions, and she knew it. At that moment, it sunk in just how manipulative the director was, and he understood why Gibbs had a thinly veiled disdain for her authority. Conceding that he was going to have to step up to the plate, Tony said, “No need for that. Like I said, I’m in. I’ll make nice with the good doctor, and find out what she knows.” He didn’t say, ‘and that’s all I’ll do,’ but he could tell Shepard got his message.

 

“Good. And as soon as la Grenouille is sitting, handcuffed, in an NCIS interview room, I’ll make an official announcement that you’re being promoted to Gibbs’ position, permanently.”

 

Going after an international arms dealer didn’t faze Tony half so much as taking over Gibbs’ job. Those were big shoes to fill. He’d have a hard time being the authority figure the team needed; he doubted they’d ever totally accept him. He didn’t think he had the same drive as Gibbs, the relentless pursuit of justice, and the deep need to make things right, no matter what. What puzzled Tony was: why was the director so sure that Gibbs wasn’t coming back?

 

He could do this undercover thing in his sleep. That wasn’t the issue. But did he really want to be given Gibbs’ job? Not by default, he didn’t. It didn’t feel right, taking advantage of Gibbs’ absence to assume the coveted leadership spot on the team. And it definitely felt wrong to let the director use him to find la Grenouille so she could get the revenge she craved. It crossed his mind that once la Grenouille had been interrogated to her satisfaction, the arms dealer would be as good as dead. Tony had no doubt that he’d be found hanged in a holding cell the next morning, a sheet tied around his neck, if the director had her way.

 

Despite the way Gibbs treated him at times, Tony wished heartily his boss would come back, and for everything to return to normal. Of course their version of normal was more like Abby-normal, he thought wryly, but that was how they operated, like one big dysfunctional family. If, at that very moment, Gibbs were to suddenly appear in front of him, suntanned and unkempt from living like a beach bum, Tony would throw his arms around his neck and greet him with a big hug and a kiss. The hell with what everyone would think!

 

Shaking his head and telling himself a get a grip, Tony said in a strong voice, “I’m the best at undercover work. I’ll find this arms dealer for you, Director.”

 

Shepard smiled, looking smug. She put another file in front of Tony. “And just think, you can have a bit of fun at the same time. His daughter is not only very attractive, but apparently has a thing for old TV shows, which sounds right up your alley. That’s why the cover identity I’ve set up for you is of a film professor… one Tony DiNardo.”

 

ooOoo


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

 

Late one night, a couple of weeks later, Tony visited Director Shepard’s office to report the latest developments on his assignment. He’d casually bumped into Jeanne Benoit at a music store, and had charmed her into having coffee with him. The got along nicely, so next he took her out for a drink, and now they had a dinner date lined up. The old DiNozzo charm had its advantages. Tony DiNardo was going to pick her up at her apartment on Friday night, and he planned to get there early. “While she’s finishing getting ready to go out, I should be able to snoop around,” he told the director. “I’ll need to make sure I get out of here early.”

 

Shepard nodded. “It can be arranged. I knew you’d be able to insinuate yourself into Ms. Benoit’s life, DiNozzo.”

 

“I’m glad that you have confidence in my abilities, Director,” Tony said, swallowing a sour feeling.

 

“I _am_ confident… that you will succeed with this assignment, and bring la Grenouille to justice,” the director said with a smile. “I’ll cover for you here, when I can. If you can’t make it to work, Agent Balboa can be in charge of McGee and Ziva.” She handed a cell phone to Tony, and told him it was a direct line to her number, and that texting her ‘911’ would signal that he was in trouble. The director gave him a sharp look, and said, “But you won’t be getting into any trouble, will you?”

“No ma’am.” Tony wondered exactly who the cavalry would consist of, and how they’d find him if nobody knew where he was, or what he was up to.

 

“By the way, since we’re going to be working together so closely, don’t you think it’s time you call me Jenny? Only when we’re alone, of course, Tony.”

 

Tony nodded. “Of course… Jenny.”

 

ooOoo

 

Tony started to keep meticulous records of everything the director said to him, and every move he made when on assignment for her. He wore a wire to their meetings whenever he could get away with it, and wrote up his activities as he would an official report, keeping duplicates of everything in a safe place. Although he didn’t want to have to use any of it if Director Shepard did something illegal, he wanted to have evidence to prove that he had no part in it.

 

ooOoo

 

When it appeared that Jeanne had accepted Tony as being Professor Tony DiNardo, and everything was going well, Director Shepard invited Tony into her office for a drink and an update.

 

She poured two whisky and sodas, and handed him one without asking. “I’ve already recommended you to move into the supervisory position, permanently. You’ll officially be working under me, Tony, and I can be a very generous boss,” she said, smiling suggestively.

 

“I’m sure you are, Director,” Tony said, finding it difficult to conjure up a smile. He put the glass on the conference table, untouched.

 

The director had no intention of reinstating Gibbs, and the way she’d pushed the career agent aside as soon as the opportunity presented itself didn’t sit well with Tony. Where the hell was her loyalty? Gibbs was a fixture in the agency. He was the kind of man who everybody at NCIS expected to pursue criminals with dogged determination until the day he dropped. But Director Shepard saying she wasn’t even willing to give him a chance, and slammed the door in his face, was untenable.

 

Tony was pissed at the way Shepard was bad-mouthing Gibbs, but speaking in his boss’s defense wouldn't change her mind. More likely, it would rile her up. Contrary to the director’s opinion of Gibbs, Tony, as well as his colleagues, wanted Gibbs back, and he wanted to make her understand that. “Gibbs taught me everything I know, Director. He’s a tough boss, but he’s the best. Okay, so sometimes he isn’t good at taking orders but–”

 

Shepard interrupted, “I applaud your loyalty, Tony, but just so we’re clear on this, Gibbs is out of the picture. He will never get his position back, even if he decides he’d had enough sun and tequila, and shows up on our doorstep tomorrow.”

 

Tony left that meeting with a bad feeling in his stomach. He tried Gibbs’ cell phone but it beeped as if it couldn’t connect, and didn’t even go to voicemail. He texted a message, knowing it was fruitless, as Gibbs would probably never see it. _Trying to reach you. U ok? Call me. T._

 

He caught Abby on her way out to a club, and asked her if she had ever gotten through to Gibbs, or if she had a number for Mike Franks. He didn’t tell her what was going on, just that he wanted to talk to Gibbs. The man deserved to know he was being thrown to the curb without any notice.

 

Abby said she’d called Gibbs once a week, and so far had only reached his voicemail. Franks didn’t have a phone, but the local cantina would take calls for him. She gave Tony the number, and enveloped him a big hug. “I want Gibbs back, too, and won’t it be wonderful when everything is back to normal and our family is together again? So do that voodoo that you do and get him back here. Got it?”

 

Lying in bed that night, Tony thought about Gibbs, and what he’d say to him when he got through to him. “Hi Boss, haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s the weather down there? By the way, the director’s booting you out of NCIS so you needn’t bother coming back.” Tony laughed softly. Yeah, right, like he’d say that. If he did, sure thing Gibbs would never return.

 

Maybe he’d beg, instead. “Boss! Boss! You have to come home, please, please! I can’t stand any more of Ziva and Tim being assholes, and Jenny’s like a leach trying to suck me dry chasing down some international criminal who hasn’t shown his face in months, and I’m working 28 hours a day at two jobs ­– three if you count the film studies as Professor DiNardo – and I’m going fucking crazy! Please, I need you!” Okay, that was way over the top desperate, but that was how he felt.

 

He didn’t understand why Shepard was getting rid of Gibbs. He’d always flouted her authority…but then, Gibbs did that with almost everyone he met, at least with those he didn’t respect, which was almost everyone. Or maybe she was afraid of him, because Gibbs saw too much, and would have caught on to what she was up to.

 

Gibbs may have left without warning, but you had to give the guy a little leeway. When he walked out, he was still recovering from a blast that had left him with some pretty bad burns and a head injury that caused temporary amnesia. Who knows what screws might be loose inside that hard head of his? Tony knew from experience that getting knocked out took a lot out of you. There had been times when it had taken him weeks to get his head on straight again – even though he’d always pretended he was just fine and dandy, when his vision was screwy and he listed dangerously to one side. So if Gibbs needed a couple of months off in order to regroup, then that was what he should take, as far as Tony was concerned. Only a short respite to recuperate had now stretched to over four months, and Tony despaired of ever seeing Gibbs again.

 

Tony gave serious thought to taking a few days off to chase down his boss, and somehow convince him to return. But then he pictured Gibbs’ reaction. He’d probably be pissed at being followed, and would yell at Tony to go home.

 

He placed the call to Gibbs’ phone at midnight, expecting to reach voice mail. Instead, a gruff, “What, DiNozzo?” reached his ears.

 

“Boss?”

 

There was a pause before Gibbs grunted, “I’m not your boss anymore.”

 

Unable to quarrel about that, just the same, Tony blurted, “You’re not retired.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

God, what wasn’t wrong? He missed him, badly, more than he’d realized until hearing his voice again, after four months. The director had sucked him into her own quest for vengeance and he’d been dating the daughter of an arms dealer half the world was looking for. “When’re you coming back, Boss?” Tony asked.

 

For a moment he thought Gibbs hadn’t heard him, but there was a sigh and Gibbs said tiredly, “I can’t. I’m not…ready.”

 

He had to ask. “When will you be ready?”

 

“DiNozzo!”

 

Tony whispered into the phone, “I miss you so badly.”

 

The pause this time was even longer, but Gibbs said, just as softly, “I know.” There was a click and they were disconnected.

 

Tony tried, unsuccessfully, not to cry. He wiped his nose and tried to cheer himself up by telling himself that Gibbs would to return to DC when he was good and ready. They all believed ­– Ziva and McGee, Abby and Ducky, even Palmer – that he would just walk in the door like nothing had happened, and get right back to work without any fanfare. Morale would improve, everything would run smoothly and they’d all be happy again.

 

Okay, maybe not _happy_ , because some of the things the director has accused Gibbs of were true. Yes, he went off on his own, without backup, acting like the Lone Ranger and putting himself in the line of fire. No, he didn’t like working with computers and had a hard time doing anything but the simplest of tasks on his flip phone, but the guy was a committed, experienced, skilled investigator who could still outrun even the most fleet-footed of criminals; he was fearless and drove like a Nascar driver, and as an added bonus, Gibbs could strip down and re-assemble his M40A1 sniper rifle in record time while blindfolded, almost two decades after leaving the Marines. Face it, the silver fox was a badass, and he’d be one right up until the day he died. Getting dissed by the director and fired from NCIS wasn’t about to change that.

 

At least working with Gibbs was interesting, even when things went off the rails. Doing things his own way, and believing that the means justified the end, was how Gibbs operated, and nobody could change the man’s modus operandi. Tony didn’t want to change him, anyway. He actually liked Gibbs the way he was, and he always had.

 

He liked Gibbs’ growly, straight-as-an-arrow ways, his unrelenting drive, the way he stood up for the underdog. He was autocratic and demanding, but there was more to Gibbs than met the eye. A lot more. Underneath the special agent/Marine exterior was a man who few people had to opportunity to know. But Tony knew him. He knew the Gibbs who had the ability to be kind and compassionate, and took the time to listen to and understand whoever he was with. The Gibbs he knew could joke and tease and smile, and _God_ , when he smiled, it was like he was a whole different person. And despite his sketchy history with regards to marriage, he still had plenty of room in his heart to give love, and to accept love, too. Hell, Tony knew Gibbs better than anyone. After all, he’d had fallen head over heels in love with the guy the moment he’d tackled him in that alley in Baltimore, and they’d been together ever since.

 

ooOoo

 

Okay, so it hadn’t always been perfect. Their relationship had suffered as many ups and downs as the Cyclone at Coney Island. In the six crazy, tumultuous years they’d been sleeping together, sometimes living together, they’d broken up – and made up again – plenty of times. Mostly it was because one or both of them was being stupid or stubborn, or unnecessarily putting themselves in danger.

 

Tony once pulled a stupid stunt in order to protect a female witness, and got injured when doing so. That made Gibbs so bent-out-of-shape pissed and jealous he kicked a dent in Tony’s Mustang and refused to speak to him, even at work, for an entire week. The worst was when Tony had a two-week affair with Paula Cassidy, during one of those ‘I’m _never_ sleeping with Gibbs again’ breakups, and Gibbs accused Tony of using her to get back at him. Of course Tony swore up and down he would _never_ use anyone like that, even though somewhere in the far recesses of his brain a big fat finger pointed at him while a voice shouted, ‘Liar, liar!’

 

They’d been through misunderstandings, stand-offs, and days without any communication at all, but no matter whether they fought loudly or stewed in silence, Tony and Gibbs always got back together. They would stumble over apologies (yes, Gibbs apologized sincerely when it was important), and kiss and make up, and inevitably they would fall into bed together. Make-up sex was always hot and passionate, with the two of them fighting for dominance as they screwed each other, but it didn’t really solve anything; the problem that had caused the friction in the first place was still there. Eventually they accepted that they had to resolve their issues, which meant talking about them, and as much as Tony hated baring his soul, Gibbs was worse. Still, they waded through the uncomfortable world of couples’ therapy and learned that opening their mouths and admitting their problems to each other wasn’t going to kill them – even though there were times Tony felt like he’d die of embarrassment.

 

Tony never stopped loving Gibbs, no matter what, and the thing that astounded Tony was that Gibbs loved him back, just as deeply. Gibbs had never actually said the words though, those “I love you” words that mattered a lot more than they should, but he took every opportunity to show Tony just how much he cared for him, and needed him in his life. It was the little things that made it all worthwhile – the way Gibbs kissed him softly in the morning, or hugged him from behind when he was doing the dishes; the way he held Tony close after sex, tenderly, whispering sweet things to him, making sure Tony understood that he meant every word.

 

And sometimes, when they were worn out from dealing with all the horrific crimes on a daily basis, Gibbs would lock the front door and pull Tony onto the couch with him. He’d wrap his arms around him, and kiss him on the neck while they lip-read silent movies, and watched Garbo make love to John Gilbert, just with her eyes.

 

The last couple of years had been mostly trouble-free, relationship-wise, but then, back in May, Gibbs had gotten himself blown up aboard the _Bakir Kamir_ , and between his memory loss, PTSD and anger, he’d been unable to cope. That first night home from the hospital had been tough for both of them. Gibbs had refused to come to bed. Unable to settle down, he had paced continuously, upset over the deaths of nineteen SEALs who had been caught in a devastating explosion as they approached the _Cape Fear_ – and knowing it could have been prevented. Along with the memories of his first wife and child still fresh in his mind, confused, feeling torn and guilty, he’d stuffed a few things in his duffel and left in the middle of the night, telling Tony he needed some time.

 

ooOoo

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

 

Tony needed a friend, someone he could hang out with and do ordinary things with, without the need for pretense.

 

Right from the start, Abby had been so caught up in getting Gibbs back, she acted as if nobody else could possibly be missing him as much as her. Tony found it tough to get through to her. After Gibbs’ abrupt departure, Ziva and McGee had moped around, looking like the bottom of their world had dropped out. Ducky had been unusually closed off, as if he was grieving the loss of a close friend. It was Jimmy Palmer, the ME’s shy assistant who sometimes blurted out inappropriate comments, who proved himself to be the best kind of friend to Tony.

 

It started with Palmer inviting Tony out for pizza and office gossip on their lunch hour, then Tony asked him over for poker night with a couple of his neighbors. There was little free time, but on that rare Sunday off, the two men would head for the Y and join a pickup basketball game. Palmer was easy to talk to, and he had some amusing stories of his youth in Florida. Tony liked that he could relax around him, and pretty much be himself. He found Palmer to be funny, and insightful, but he had to keep both his relationship with Gibbs, and his undercover job for the director, to himself. He’d never had trouble keeping secrets before, but with Gibbs gone, the need to talk about him was strong, as if by saying Gibbs’ name he was somehow keeping their bond alive.

 

It was when he was alone that Tony missed Gibbs the most. He missed the grunts and tousled hair in the morning, the way Gibbs smiled at him until his knees felt weak. Tony even missed the way his lover would get up at some ungodly hour and head down the basement just to sand his damned boat, only to return at dawn with wood shavings in his hair, and make love to him until the sun came up.

 

So yes, he wanted Gibbs to return, and soon. He wanted him to come back with his head on straight, to be healthy and sane, and free of guilt, so they could enjoy spending the rest of their lives together. Tony was an optimist most of the time, and he would do anything for Gibbs, support him in any way, but by the time September rolled around, he wouldn't lay odds on their relationship having a happy outcome.

 

ooOoo

 

Ever since he met Jeanne Benoit, Tony had to switch gears at the end of a long workday, and become Tony DiNardo, professor of film studies. Romancing the arms dealer’s daughter wasn’t a difficult assignment, or even a dangerous one. He enjoyed the light flirtation, and was in his element going out with an attractive woman and discussing the somber themes and visuals of German expressionist films over a glass of wine.

 

He dutifully reported to Director Shepard on a regular basis, informing her that there was no listing for René Benoit on Jeanne’s laptop, phone or iPad. She never emailed or texted her father. There was one picture of him on her computer, a happy family picture from when she was a child. Out of the several phone calls he’d intercepted between Jeanne and her mother, Jeanne’s father was only mentioned once, and briefly. The mother, Helen Berkley, made a derisive comment about her ex, warning her daughter to choose wisely when she finally decided to get married. Jeanne’s response was to laugh it off and say she knew what she was doing. It sounded like ordinary mother-daughter talk.

 

As the days progressed, and Tony got to know Jeanne better, it became more and more difficult to lie straight to her face. He was good at his job though, and balanced the fun times with some gentle prodding about her family. If Jeanne said next to nothing about her parents, it was most likely because there was little to say. Tony understood, and when he told her about his parents, especially his issues with his father, keeping his story as close to his truth as possible, she seemed to get it.

 

So far he hadn’t slept with Jeanne. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him. Normally, he would jump right into bed with anyone, who was willing, male or female – or that had been his habit before he’d met Gibbs. He’d have thought that being monogamous with anyone would be next to impossible, but the funny thing was that as soon as he and Gibbs realized that they were going to stick with each other for a good long while, it never occurred to him to stray. Except on that one occasion when they’d broken up, and he’d had a fling with Cassidy. She’d had no idea who had dumped him, although she’d been sympathetic. Tony never told her, or anyone, although a few times he’d come close to telling Abby about his long-term relationship with Gibbs.

 

But with Jeanne, there was something he just couldn't get past. The lies, the subterfuge, the pursuit of her father all came into play. Tony thought that, maybe, if he’d been straight, and if Gibbs hadn’t been in the picture… Anyway, he could tell she was wondering why he hadn’t yet made a move on her, and he just hoped that the undercover job would end before he had to make a difficult decision.

 

Tony did not look forward to the inevitable day when he’d have to reveal himself to Jeanne as being a Navy cop who’d lied and deceived her, so he could catch her arms-dealer father. She’d be mortified, and distraught, and very angry, and naturally she’d put the blame on Tony. He knew that. He could blame it on his job, on the director’s need for revenge, and on her dad, too, for making a career out of selling weapons to the enemy, for use against Americans. But ultimately, the blame lay at his own doorstep, for lying to her, even if it was for a good cause.

 

And then it would sink in that not only was her boyfriend not the person she had believed him to be, and she’d hate him. But then, neither was Jeanne’s father the man she thought he was – presuming she knew nothing of his business. Her father would be caught and tried, and he would be found guilty of an array of criminal charges. La Grenouille would spend the rest of his days in a Federal prison…unless Director Shepard took matters into her own hands and dealt with la Grenouille as she saw fit. Tony did not want to think about the fallout, should that happen.

 

ooOoo

 

In Gibbs’ absence, Tony had been saddled with a sullen McGee and a resentful Ziva, both of them dragging their heels and whining they wanted Gibbs back. They had tested Tony – who had been given the temporary position of Supervisory Special Agent by Gibbs as he’d left (“You’ll do. It’s your team now.”) and then, more officially, by Director Shepard – at every turn. They’d questioned his authority, turned up late, and sometimes did half-assed field work. He’d expected Ziva to give him a hard time, but not McGee, who seemed to blindly follow the Israeli’s lead.

 

Right from the start, Tony took his role as Gibbs’ temporary replacement seriously. He corrected his agents, made them re-do unsatisfactory work, even wrote them up for infractions he might have overlooked if their attitude had been better, or if they’d shown the slightest amount of respect for him. It was tiring, fighting to retain control of your subordinates, day after day. Tony’s sense of humor drained away, and he found himself becoming more like Gibbs, giving abrupt orders and then turning his back on them and walking away. The trouble was, he was never quite sure if they’d fall in on his six. Being unable to trust them to back him up in a tough situation was both disheartening and disturbing.

 

There came a day when Tony had had enough. He’d only been heading the team for three weeks at that point, but he should have done something about it a lot earlier. He had stood in front of Ziva and McGee and chastised them, right in the middle of the bullpen, in a voice loud enough for everyone within 30 feet to hear him. “Our close rates are down. I’m disappointed, and what’s more, if Gibbs were here, he’d have your asses. He taught you better than this. If we don’t work together, we’re going to lose the major cases to another team. You two really want to end up reading cold cases while Balboa’s team gets all the good shit? You really think Gibbs is going to be happy when he gets back, when he finds you’ve wrecked his long-standing record, everything he’s worked for, over the years? He’ll send you back to Norfolk, Probie, and you’ll be lucky if they make you a file clerk. As for you, Officer David, your continued stay here is based upon your usefulness and performance, both of which are deficient at this time. Have you got your passport handy? Because it seems to me you’re itching to be sent home.”

 

In response to Tony’s threat, McGee had shifted uncomfortably and looked suitably guilty. It was obvious that Ziva was pissed at being told off, but she bit her lip and held back whatever she was dying to say. She didn’t want to go back to Israel, something Tony was counting on.

 

Tony wasn’t all lip-service, either. He exerted his authority, compelling them to re-do shoddy work. Their pay was docked if they arrived late or skipped out early, and any insubordination was written up and went right in their files. As soon as Ziva and McGee realized Tony was serious, and that the negative reports against them were piling up, they changed their tune. Things didn’t improve overnight; Tony still caught their eye-rolls and exasperated sighs, but he knew he had to choose his battles.

 

Soon there weren’t quite so many dark looks coming from Ziva, and McGee stopped looking to her for approval. Instead, by mid-summer, he learned to work with Tony instead of against him, for which Tony heaved a sigh of relief. He gave McGee more responsibility, which McGee ate up, and plied Ziva with hot sweet tea and baklava from the Greek café down the street. It was amazing how easily she caved when offered a little attention and some sweets.

 

Tony always pulled his own weight when out on an investigation, but he never let his people forget his was the word of authority. He tried to keep things light, knowing that browbeating or shaming them only went so far. He bought his team coffee and take-out when they had to stay late, and occasionally let them go home early when they earned it, but he also assigned them all the paperwork. They kicked up a fuss over filling out requisition forms, but eventually realized that such tasks hadn’t been completed by magic in the past, and that Tony had put in a lot of hours, right from the start, making sure that everything ran smoothly. Tony trained them to fill in the paperwork for everything from supplies to forensic kits, until they did it without him needing to remind them. It helped that McGee figured out a way to automate the inventories. As a reward, Tony removed some of the negative reviews he’d written up, and let Tim drive the car for a week.

 

Although technically Abby wasn’t under his command, Tony had made a point of letting her know he needed her help to get through this trying time with Gibbs gone. Tony knew Abby wanted Gibbs back more than anything, and that she saw him as a lesser replacement, but he pointed out that Gibbs would expect them all to continue as if he were there. “When he gets back, we don’t want him to find we’ve all fallen apart, do we?” Tony had said gently.

 

“It’s just that… I miss him, Tony,” Abby had whined.

 

“We all do. He’ll expect us to our best, Abby,” Tony had reasoned. “You’ll see, he’ll be home soon.”

 

ooOoo

 

Winston Churchill once said that failure was not fatal, but it was obvious he’d never met international arms dealer la Grenouille. So far, neither had Tony. The man known as The Frog had so far been elusive despite Tony’s best efforts to locate him. The search had been difficult from the start. Tony couldn't recruit McGee to do the deep searches that he excelled at, nor ask Ziva to contact her Mossad friends for insider information – it was need-to-know, and the only people within NCIS who knew anything about the manhunt were himself and Director Shepard.

 

Things may have improved with his team, but Tony’s undercover assignment was taking up all his free time. He was now seeing Jeanne Benoit on a regular basis, which meant at all hours as she often worked late shifts in the ED. Some mornings he had a hard time dragging himself in to work. He looked like crap, had a perpetual headache, and was afraid his hair was going to fall out prematurely due to stress.

 

Ziva had been casting suspicious glances Tony’s way for a few weeks now, and asking him personal questions. She knew he carried two phones, and correctly deduced he was covering up an affair. Unfortunately, she’d also caught a glimpse of a hospital bracelet Jeanne had playfully secured around his wrist, and she pestered him about his health. The suspicious looks had turned into worried ones, and Tony didn’t know if he should take that as an indication that Ziva actually cared, or not.

 

Tony told the director it was a waste of time. Jeanne had no idea that her father was an international criminal who had had his fingers in every major arms deal in Europe and the Middle East.

 

There had never been any evidence that Jeanne had any contact with her father, which was the whole point of cozying up to her. She never mentioned him, and when Tony had asked the usual questions such as, “What’s your family like? What does your dad do?” her answer had been a shrug and a vague, “Divorced. He imports machinery or something. Can we go to dinner now? I’m starving.”

 

Tony practically begged the director to let him go back to working full time on NCIS investigations. She outright refused.

 

OoOoo

 

 

On a bright, humid Friday afternoon, Tony was busting his balls handling baggage at Corporate Aviation at Dulles. The director had set it up. There’d been a tip that la Grenouille’s jet was due to arrive in DC, flying in from Egypt. Tony had planned on taking Jeanne out for a late dinner and some dancing, as she was off at ten, but as usual work got in the way. Tony had to remind himself that dating her was also work, as the lines were starting to become blurred.

 

Finally the G5 jet he’d been told was la Grenouille’s landed. It turned out that the Frog wasn’t on the flight, which was disappointing, to say the least, though some other interesting characters disembarked. Tony managed to place tracking devices on their expensive luggage, although he almost got caught in the act by one of the Frog’s men. This guy was British, bald and, in Tony’s estimation, a dangerous player. He had that hard look in his eyes that Tony had only seen before in serial killers, a mix of disdain and belief in his own power.

 

Shepard ordered Tony to keep an eye on the people who’d come in on the plane, so he donned his Jamaican street singer disguise – the one that came with handy camera-glasses – and stationed himself across the street from an expensive restaurant and watched the two men and one woman eating for hours. After they finished their meal they moved on to a four-star hotel, and settled in for the night.

 

The director told Tony to go see Jeanne while she ran the identities of la Grenouille’s associates herself. Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He got rid of his rasta tails and headed over to the hospital to pick up Jeanne. Luckily she was running late. After picking up some take-out, they went back to Jeanne’s place and fell asleep on the couch, a movie droning softly in the background.

 

Jeanne had asked Tony a couple of times when was she was going to see his apartment. He had joked around about how cramped and messy it was, and managed to distract her with kisses, but such tactics were only a stopgap. Tony told Shepard he was going to need an apartment to match his undercover persona. She agreed and within a few days, Tony was able to show Jeanne his studio apartment.

 

It was located inconveniently far from the hospital. He’d packed it full of film books, DVDs and posters of obscure films, along with the décor suitable for a frat-boy-turned-bachelor-professor: an ugly second-hand recliner, oversized TV, a kitchen so small you barely noticed it, paperwork and books stacked up on every flat surface, take-out menus from every eatery within half a mile, dirty socks strewn around, a stack of six-packs next to a tub of empties ready for recycling, a bathroom filled with sports equipment, a milk-crate bedside table and a room deodorizer sitting next to a pizza box with one congealing slice remaining.

 

Jeanne visited once and never went back.

 

ooOoo


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

 

By early September, with no sighting of the target, Director Shepard’s patience was running out.

 

Tony was seated next to her in MTAC, watching a remotely operated drone drop a small bomb on an Iraqi outpost. The explosion glared brightly on-screen, and when it cleared they could see figures on the ground, unmoving. The director smiled at the screen and mused, “All I need is a location…”

 

Knowing by then that this op definitely wasn’t sanctioned, Tony asked, “You _sure_ you want the Frog brought in for questioning?”

 

Shepard snorted. “How about you just concentrate on locating him, Tony? Let me worry about what happens next. I’ll take care of my end.”

 

Tony had no doubt that the director was capable, and willing, of taking care of la Grenouille in her own special way.

 

ooOoo

 

Tony ended up going in the director’s stead to a security conference in Germany for several days. Part of his assignment was to check around to find out if there were any leads as to la Grenouille’s whereabouts among their European friends. There was some chatter about the Frog aligning himself with both South African and ex-IRA gun-runners, and how he was expanding his territory to include the US, but nothing solid.

 

By the time he returned, Tony had decided he was going to inform Director Shepard he was shutting down the undercover op immediately. No more fake relationship with Jeanne Benoit. He was scheduled to take Jeanne out on a date that evening, which was a good time to let her down easily. He didn’t care what the director said, or what repercussions there might be. If she wanted to write him up, or demote him or whatever, then so be it.

 

Tony went in to work, planning to inform Director Shepard of his intentions, but he never got the chance. The whole of NCIS was in an uproar because Ziva because had gotten herself slapped with a murder charge, and was on the run with the FBI and Mossad conducting a manhunt for her.

 

It was the first time in months that worked together like a team. They met in Autopsy, red hazard lights blinking. Abby and Ducky, and even McGee were eager to defend Ziva and track down the real killer. Palmer, not so much. Tony got through to Ziva’s burn phone, and a minute later Gibbs was on the line. He had just flown in from Mexico and joined Ziva, who had been hiding out in his basement.

 

ooOoo

 

Tony didn’t remember the drive, but forty minutes later, he was in Gibbs’ basement, standing next to him, wondering what the hell Ziva had said to get Gibbs to come to her rescue.

 

This wasn’t the Gibbs look he remembered, with the long hair, a God-awful beard and a guayabera shirt that the Gibbs he knew would _never_ wear. He was tanned and thin, and his eyes were bluer than ever. He needed a shave and a haircut, and even though Tony’s heart was beating a mile a minute because Gibbs, _his_ Gibbs, was back, he didn’t hesitate to tell the silver-haired man he looked scruffy.

 

Gibbs looked straight at Tony and questioned whether or not he should have left him in charge. Tony knew Gibbs was jerking him around, and he didn’t care. He was home, was all he could think. Everything else could be sorted out later. He noticed the way Gibbs called him McGee, but he also noticed Gibbs’ smirk as he turned away.

 

Naturally, Gibbs and Ziva went off on their own to figure out who was framing Ziva, and why. By the time they’d sorted it out, there had been another explosion and the FBI reported they believed Ziva to have been killed. That was grim news, as Tony knew Gibbs had been with her. He was frantic with worry and unable to show it, especially with the FBI snooping around. Presenting a calm front was nothing new for Tony, but this time is was really difficult to keep everything bottled up. Ziva was missing and probably dead, and Gibbs, too. It didn’t look good.

 

ooOoo

 

“I’m going to let Director Shepard know they’re probably dead, and resign for disobeying a direct order,” Tony informed Ducky.       


“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Anthony Dinozzo.”       


“And why is that?”       


“Because the man who did that is still out there,” Ducky insisted. “And I’ll be damned if we let him get away with it!”    

 

“What would Gibbs do, right? I’ve got a bulletin for you, Ducky. I am not Gibbs.”       


“No, you’re not. Gibbs quit. You’re still here,” Ducky said in a firm tone.       


“Why wasn’t I with Ziva? I turned over my responsibility to him without even thinking about it.”       


“Gibbs is one of the most capable agents–”  


Tony interrupted, “Was, Ducky! You didn’t see him. I mean, he didn’t even look like Gibbs.  I think he went native down there.”         


“Uh, Tony?”       


For some reason, the physical changes in Gibbs got Tony all bent out of shape. He didn’t like him being different. “His hair is all long and crazy looking. And he’s got this scraggly beard. He looks like a pirate or something. His eyes are all bloodshot, probably from drinking hooch from morning to night with Franks.”     

 

Ducky was making urgent motions with his hands and nodding at something behind Tony, and when Tony caught on and turned, there was Gibbs. And what’s more, he was whole and undamaged, and looking at Tony in a funny way, one corner of his mouth quirked in the beginning of a smile.

 

Gibbs said mockingly, “They call it a ‘red eye’ for a reason… You know, the flight I was on all night to get here?”

 

Any walls Tony may have erected crumbled down at that moment. He didn’t think he’d ever been so relieved in his life. “Oh, geez! You’re all right!” He threw his arms around Gibbs’ neck and hugged him. Gibbs chuckled and hugged him back. It was all too brief. Tony backed off, saying breathlessly, “Good. All right. Thank God.” How he wished they were alone and he could stay within Gibbs’ arms forever.

 

Ducky was smiling, something he’d done rarely since Gibbs had left. “Welcome home, Jethro.”       


“Oh, you got the wrong guy. I’m just visiting,” said Gibbs, casually, as he headed up the stairs to meet with Director Shepard. 

 

ooOoo

 

The murder charges against Ziva were dropped, based upon the evidence the team collected, and the audio tape Ziva had recorded when she went to apprehend the people who had set her up. It turned out to have been a plot cooked-up by the Syrians to damage Israeli/US relations. They didn’t succeed, but it had been a close call. Once all the agencies after Ziva were called off, she was free to continue working as the Mossad liaison officer at NCIS.

 

Ziva, along with McGee and Abby, and just about everyone at NCIS, were happy that Gibbs was back. They wanted to take Gibbs out for a ‘welcome back’ drink, but he kept saying he was retiring. Nobody seemed to believe him. They settled for pizza and coffee, and had an impromptu party in the bullpen.

 

Tony noticed Director Shepard leaning over the railing above, watching them, and she was not smiling. Gibbs was unusually quiet, as if he was holding everything in and it was taking a great deal of effort. Tony kept an eye on him, concerned.

 

After about 20 minutes, Tony looked around and found that Gibbs had gone. He made some excuse and left, but instead of heading home, he went straight to Gibbs’ house.

 

ooOoo

 

It was dark by the time Tony arrived. Gibbs was in his bedroom, packing rolled-up shirts in a duffel. Tony’s heart sank. He leaned casually in the doorway and asked, “Going somewhere?”

 

Gibbs straightened and slowly turned around. He looked so damned serious Tony wanted to cry, and just when he was about to launch himself at Gibbs, and beg him to stay, Gibbs stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. Tony hugged Gibbs tightly, like he was never going to let go, and asked, “Why didn’t you pick up the damned phone and call me? Don’t you ever leave me like that again! I love you!”

 

Gibbs buried his face in Tony’s neck and his emotions finally caught up to him. “God, I’m sorry. So sorry. Missed you so much. I love you, Tony.”

 

Finally they kissed, with so much passion and need that Tony’s knees went weak, and if Gibbs hadn’t been holding him up, he certainly would have fallen. It was as if they hadn’t seen each other for years, and Tony said, in between kisses, “You can’t go! Not without me.”

 

It was a while before they parted, panting, somehow laughing and crying at the same time. Once they’d wiped their eyes and noses, and laughed about it some more, they dumped the duffel on the ground and laid together on the bed, holding each other close. It was overwhelming, and neither of them said anything. They touched each other, and Tony kissed Gibbs’ chest, where his Mexican shirt was open at the neck, showing a smattering of gray chest hairs. Gibbs kissed Tony’s cheek and forehead, and his hair, ever so gently, and inhaled his scent as if he’d missed it terribly.

 

Eventually, Tony cupped Gibbs’ bearded face between his palms and asked, “Where’d you think you were going, anyway?”

 

Gibbs smiled into his eyes, and Tony could see the longing in them. “I was going to your place. Where’d you think I was going?”

 

Once he’d overcome his surprise, Tony said, “You were? Wow, good plan! Of course you were. Sure. Uh…you know Abby’ll turn up at the door any minute? Then Ducky, and probably the rest of the gang.”

 

“Jesus,” Gibbs swore and ran a hand over his face. “I can’t deal with it.”

 

“They just want to make sure you’re all right.” Tony rested one hand on Gibbs’ ribs. “You’re so thin,” he exclaimed, just then realizing Gibbs must have lost a good twenty pounds.

 

With a shrug, Gibbs said, “I picked up some below-the-border bug a few weeks ago. Nasty shit. Took a lot out of me. I’d have been here sooner…”

 

Concerned, Tony raised himself on one elbow and had a good look at his lover. The scars on his face from the burns he’d received in the _Kamir_ explosion had faded, but he was sunburned. That annoyed Tony. “Did you even use sunblock, Jethro?”

 

Gibbs snorted. “You sound like Ducky.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Yeah, I used it. Sweated it off just as fast as I applied it. I just packed another tube I found in the bathroom, before you barged in.”

 

Tony’s face fell. “You’re going somewhere? I mean, after coming to my condo?”

 

“No…” Gibbs shook his head slowly. “I was going to talk to you about it. You know, about our plans.”

 

“Our plans? You mean, like together plans?” Tony asked, wanting confirmation before he got too excited.

 

“Well, yeah. I don’t want to be apart from you, but…I didn’t know what you wanted. I mean, for all I knew, I’d come back to find you in the director’s chair.”

 

Tony shook his head and said vehemently, “Oh, no, I’m not going there! That’s not for me. All that covert crap and using people like they’re expendable, and…” He took a moment to calm down and said, “Look, you’ve just got back, and we’re both exhausted, and we need a decent meal and…”

 

“I need beer.”

 

“I have beer at my place,” Tony said enticingly.

 

“Any Mexican beer?”

 

Tony thought for a second and said, “No, but there’s a Safeway near me. We can pick up some Old Dominion. And more coffee now I know you’re staying. Let’s go.”

 

“Too tired to get up.” Gibbs groaned and made himself heavy, but Tony wriggled out and got the older man to his feet. Gibbs was heading for the bathroom when, all of a sudden, Tony reached out and stopped him. “Wait a minute!”  


“What’s the matter?”

 

“You said… that thing you said…” Tony motioned with his hand.

 

“What’re you talking about, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, frowning.

“When I came in and we… we hugged and…you said…”

 

Gibbs gave a small shrug. “Oh, yeah. I said I was sorry.” His cheeks turned a dull shade of red.

 

“No, not that thing. The other thing,” Tony said insistently.

 

“What thing?” Gibbs asked with a blank expression.

 

“Don’t give me that look, Jethro Gibbs,” Tony admonished.

 

“Oh, you mean the _other_ thing.”

 

“Yeah…?” Tony said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“What? What’s the big deal? If you don’t know by now that I love you…” Gibbs said, exasperated.

 

Tony smiled widely, unable to contain his pleasure. “Well, yeah! Of course I know. I do… but… well, you never say it!”

 

Gibbs looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, well…I do. Love you. Always have.” Tony was still looking at him, so Gibbs said sincerely, “I love you, Anthony DiNozzo. Never doubt that.”

 

They hugged again and kissed, but before things got too hot and heavy, Gibbs broke away and reminded Tony they had to leave before they got cornered by a pack of NCIS co-workers. Gibbs finished packing his duffel, adding a few more clothes and toiletries, and they were out the front door, locking it behind them.

 

They had a good look around before hurrying to the car, but none of their friends were lurking in the bushes. “Abby thinks you’re leaving, going back to Mexico,” Tony warned, as he started up his Mustang and pulled away from the curb.

 

Gibbs grunted. “Hmmm.”

 

Once they were on the highway, Tony said, “You’re not going to just up and go if Franks calls you or anything, right?” He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice, and apparently so could Gibbs, because he took hold of Tony’s right hand and gave it a squeeze.

 

“No, Tony. I sorta wore out my welcome, and besides, I’m not cut out for the bachelor life any more. I’ve got some ideas but… we can talk about it later, okay?”

 

Tony nodded and concentrated on his driving for a while. Stopping at the supermarket near his condo, he parked and told Gibbs he’d run in and get the beer. Before he left the car, he turned to Gibbs and said, “We have to talk about the beard sometime.”

 

Gibbs smiled as he ran his hand over his jaw. “You don’t like it?”

 

“Not sure. It definitely gives you a pirate vibe but…” Tony reached out and touched Gibbs’ beard. “It’s soft. Nice.”

 

Gibbs was amused. “Yeah? Maybe I should keep it then. See if it works for you… you know… when I uh…” He glanced down at Tony’s crotch.

 

Tony’s eyebrows rose. He cleared his throat before saying, “Oh…I hadn’t thought… okay, we’ll give it a road test. But if you scratch up my inner thighs and I can’t walk tomorrow…”

 

Gibbs leaned over and gave Tony a quick kiss, purposely rubbing his beard against his cheek. “Just get a jar of cold cream when you pick up my beer, DiNozzo.” As Tony exited the car, Gibbs called after him, “A big jar.”

 

ooOoo

 

Tony had a fresh lasagna he’d picked up at Santa Marie’s restaurant heating in the oven. “It’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” he said as he handed Gibbs a bottle of beer and settled on the couch next to him.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” started Gibbs. He turned to meet Tony’s eyes. “I’m going to sell my house.”

 

That shook Tony. “But, you love that house! It’s your home. Your memories…”

 

Gibbs took Tony’s hand and he smiled tiredly. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t need a house to remind me. I’ve got pretty clear memories, especially after…” He indicated his head.

 

“What’re you thinking of doing then? Where’re you moving to?” Tony tried not to panic.

 

“Something closer to the water, with space to work on a boat.”

 

“Something industrial down by the docks?” Tony asked, not quite able to picture this.

 

Gibbs smiled. “I’m thinking more south, on the Potomac. Like Newburg. Cheaper, and it’s only an hour from downtown. You interested in working on that with me?”

 

Tony leaned over and wrapped his arms around Gibbs’ waist. “More than interested,” he said with a big smile. Gibbs rubbed his hand up and down Tony’s arm and it felt so good Tony closed his eyes with a happy sigh.

 

He was just getting comfortable when the phone calls started coming in. The first, as expected, was Abby, but Gibbs was too tired to listen to more than a minute of her stream of words. He handed it off to Tony, who spent a while assuring her that yes, Gibbs was fine, and yes, he was shackled to the couch so he couldn't escape back to Mexico, and no they weren’t having any visitors. Yes, he was fine, too, and why was she asking? He didn’t get a straight answer.

 

Second was Director Shepard, but Tony let it go to voicemail. That made Gibbs raise his eyebrows but he didn’t say anything.

 

Next was McGee, who called to see how Tony was, which was nice and somewhat unexpected. He was curious about Gibbs, and if he was staying, and wanted Tony to tell him welcome home. Gibbs hadn’t made any decision yet, Tony relayed to him. The whole team could take the next day off, he said. Could he let Ziva know?

 

The line beeped, and it was Ziva. When she found out Tony was with Gibbs, she insisted they should keep an eye on each other. “Gibbs is not all there, and you, Tony, need to take care of yourself.” Tony didn’t know what to say, other than, “Okay. Thanks for the concern.”

 

Ducky phoned, and only stayed on the line long enough to inquire if either of them needed any medical attention, and to remind them that if they should, to call him immediately, day or night. Tony wasn’t sure why Ducky thought _he_ might need medical attention, but he let it slide.

 

They ate in the living room in front of a fire, just enjoying each other’s company. Picking up their dishes to take them to the kitchen, Tony paused. “I understand why they’re checking up on you, but why is everyone asking how I’m doing?”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“No, I don’t! Otherwise why would I be asking you?”

 

Gibbs came over to Tony and kissed him softly on the lips. Tony made a sound in the back of his throat, thinking how much he’d missed this. Gibbs tasted of lasagna and beer, but he couldn't detect any scent of sawdust on him, which was disappointing. “They’re concerned, is all.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Tony stared at Gibbs. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

 

“Ziva saw your hospital bracelet.”

 

“What does that have to do with…? Oh. It was a joke… Can I explain later?” He really didn’t want to get into who Jeanne Benoit was right now.

 

Gibbs glared at him, apparently not finding it at all funny. “She thinks you’re getting treatment. Are you?”

 

“What the hell for? No, I’m not.”

 

Gibbs looked as though he didn’t believe a word Tony was saying. “Thinks you’re sick, having a remission. They all do.”

 

“Remission! From what?” Tony stepped away from Gibbs, shaking his head in disbelief. “The plague? That was a year and a half ago!”

 

“You look worn out,” Gibbs said, sounding practical.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with me that a good night’s sleep won’t cure. I even had a checkup with Dr. Pitt last month, and he says I’m good,” Tony assured him. “Or I will be good after a night with you.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at Gibbs to emphasize his point.

 

That seemed to satisfy Gibbs. He smiled and moved forward to capture Tony in his arms. “Huh, so you think you’re getting some, do ya?”

 

“Now that would be good,” Tony said, grinning. The arms around him certainly were strong, and if asked, he might even describe Gibbs as being lean and wiry. “What about you though?”

 

“What about me?”

 

Tony licked his lips, hesitating. “D’you feel okay? I mean, you’ve had it pretty rough the past couple of days, coming all the way here, running all over town with Ziva, getting hit by that explosion and…”

 

“We were already in the truck. I’m fine.”

 

“And you’re fully recuperated from the _Bakir_ explosion?” Tony asked, knowing Gibbs didn’t like this line of questioning.

 

Gibbs raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, and then admitted. “Okay, I get headaches sometimes. I remember most things, but I can’t find a word sometimes.”

 

Tony was surprised, and a little worried. This was a man who never complained, like ever. He still had gaps in his memory, which was of concern – and headaches? “What did Ducky say? He checked you out, didn’t he?”

 

Gibbs snorted. “Wants me to go back to the doc at Bethesda.”

 

“Dr. Gelfand? Okay, I’ll go with you,” Tony said matter-of-factly.

 

Gibbs smiled at him and shook his head slightly.

 

Tony asked, “What? You don’t want me to go with you? Well, that’s too bad, because I’m going.”

 

“No, that’s not… It’s just…I missed that. Having someone who wants to take care of me. It’s nice.”

 

Tony hugged Gibbs tightly. “Nice, huh? That goes both ways, Gunny. I’m here for you, always.” After a long moment, he yawned. “Sorry. I seriously need some sleep. Haven’t had a lot of that lately.”

 

“Then we should sleep. There’s no rush.”

 

“Maybe we could do both? Sex is a great stress reliever,” Tony suggested, looking at Gibbs from under his lashes. He’d exchanged his single bed years ago for a king-size bed with the best mattress and sheets he could afford, and he knew just how much Gibbs loved sleeping in it with him.

 

“We’ll see,” was all Gibbs would say.

 

It was around ten, and the two men were getting ready for bed when Tony’s cell rang again. It took a moment for him to realize it was his second phone, the one whose number had only been given to the director and to Jeanne. Gibbs was showering, so Tony slipped out of the bedroom to answer it.

 

It was Jeanne. Shit! He’d completely forgotten he was supposed to take her out that night. “Hey, Jeanne!”

 

“Tony, I’ve been trying to reach you for the past two hours.”

 

“Sorry. I got caught up in…” What could he tell her? That he’d been handling a situation involving missing and presumed-dead Mossad liaison officer who just might have started an international incident by assassinating a Syrian army colonel under American protection? Oh, and his former boss and current lover had just turned up, out of the blue, after being blown up and running off to spend four months recuperating in Mexico. Taking a deep breath, Tony told the partial truth, “I was at a conference in Germany. Spur of the moment kind of thing. Things ran late.”

 

“You can tell me all about it tonight,” she suggested.

 

“I’m too tired to go out to dinner. Take a rain-check?”

 

“Look, I get off at 11, so you can come to my place and I’ll fix you a little late-night snack and give you a nice deep massage, and then I’ll bet you’ll be in the mood for some dessert,” Jeanne said suggestively.

 

Tony rubbed the back of his neck and said, keeping his voice low, “That’s sweet of you, but… I have to be honest with you. I’m with a friend, and he just got back in the country after a long absence, and he’s sorta messed up and… well, I think he needs me.”

 

There was a long pause, and Jeanne, sounding a little confused, said, “Oh. Okay. I guess, if your friend needs you…”

 

Tony jumped on the reprieve. “Yeah, he does. He really does.” All of a sudden, Tony realized that Gibbs was right behind him, and he froze.

 

“Tony,” Gibbs said gruffly.

 

Tony turned, to find Gibbs, bare-chested and lean, a workman’s tan, chest pale compared to his face and arms. He was wearing a pair of Tony’s silk pajama bottoms, and was fondling himself through the thin material, which did little to hide his growing erection. Tony found it hard to breathe.

 

Gibbs said, loud enough for Jeanne to hear, “You comin’ to bed? I want to fuck you, Tony.”

 

“Holy shit,” Tony said under his breath. He remembered the phone in his hand. Quickly, he said, “I… Oh hell, I’m so fucking in love with this man, I can’t go out with you anymore.”

 

Gibbs reached over and snapped the phone closed. Grinning, he said, “Good call, Tony.”

 

ooOoo

 


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 

Tony woke up around 4 a.m., and realized his conversation with Jeanne the previous night, in which he’d outed himself as sleeping with a man, had been recorded on a surveillance tape. It wouldn’t do for anyone, especially Shepard, to hear the recording of Gibbs telling Tony he wanted him to come to bed so he could fuck him.

 

Luckily, he was the only one monitoring Jeanne’s phone calls and emails, but there was always the chance that little revelation might get into the wrong hands. He glanced over at Gibbs, who was splayed out, softly snoring. The sex last night had been incredible, and Gibbs had been tender and loving.

 

Tony quietly slipped out of bed. He padded through the dark apartment to the dining room, opened his laptop, and accessed the remote recording files. He found the conversation and erased it, both on the network and on the server. If someone was looking really hard for it, they might find it, but he doubted it would ever see the light of day.

 

Tony went back to bed, snuggled with Gibbs and went right to sleep. They awoke around the same time when it was light outside, and after another round of lovemaking, a hearty breakfast and a long shower together, the two men sat at the dining room table, coffee at hand. “We need to talk” were not his favorite words, but that’s what he had to say to Gibbs.

 

Tony told him the entire saga about how Director Shepard had recruited him to seduce Jeanne Benoit in order to capture her arms dealing father. He spoke truthfully and held nothing back, knowing that he could do nothing else. He owed this much to Gibbs.

 

“You done with her?” asked Gibbs, when Tony was finished.

 

“I’m done with both of them,” Tony replied, without thinking. “The director – I’ll have a conversation with her today. Jeanne…that may require a follow-up call. I don’t like leaving things as they are. You understand?”

 

Gibbs frowned but he agreed. “You do what you need to.”

 

“I want you to know…I never wanted to lie to you. Or keep this from you. I owe you everything, Gibbs. You taught me how to do the job, you help me keep my head on straight, you watch out for me.”   

    
“Hell, Dinozzo, you were following orders. I would have done the same thing.”       


“Would you?”

       
“Yeah.”       


“You would have lied to Mike Franks?”

 

Gibbs glared into his coffee cup, as if he was annoyed with it, but eventually he looked up at Tony. “I have. I lied to him about us.”

 

“He knows about us?”

 

“No, but he said something. I denied it.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

Gibbs squirmed in his seat, and sort of mumbled, “He made some off-the-cuff comment about how, if I was gonna make sheet music with someone, a piano player wasn’t a bad choice.”

 

Tony, who had just taken a gulp of coffee, choked on it. When he’d recovered, red-faced, he asked, “And you think he doesn’t know about us?”

 

“Well…”

 

“He knows I play the piano.”

 

“How? I sure as hell didn’t tell him!”

 

“No, he saw me… when you were in the hospital, in the coma, he turned up there. I was down in the kids’ wing, playing a keyboard with a couple of them. Just to take their mind off things, you know? He found me there, introduced himself as your boss. He wanted to know about the case, any leads we had.”

 

Gibbs made a sound of disgust. “And all this time, I thought I was so good at covering it up.”

 

“You _are_. We both are, especially at work,” Tony reminded him. “Only…maybe we don’t have to be so careful anymore.”

 

Gibbs thought that over before saying, “Looks like we’ve got some decisions to make.”

 

“Guess so.” Tony was willing to make a change if that’s what Gibbs wanted, even if that meant leaving NCIS. A lot hinged upon Director Shepard’s attitude towards him; he wasn’t going to work under a hostile director, and he had a feeling that’s the way it was going. His cell rang. Speak of the devil. “Got to take this,” he told Gibbs. The conversation with the director was brief, and to the point. She wanted to see him at noon in her office, alone. He hung up and smirked at Gibbs, “She told me to come alone. She wants to discuss my assignment.”

 

“From the sound of things, she’s not gonna give up on the Frog chase,” said Gibbs.

 

“No, she isn’t,” agreed Tony. “The question is, who is she going to use to catch him. I said it needed a team of agents right at the start. With you leading us.”

 

“She ain’t gonna ask me,” Gibbs reminded him.

 

“But you’re here. I’ll bet she’s planning on using both of us. She can always fire us later.”

 

“Whether she’s out for blood or not, this la Grenouille has to be stopped. He’s been expanding into the US, but unless there’s a crime against the Navy, we can’t stick our oar into it.”

 

Tony waited, sure that Gibbs had more to say. It wasn’t like him to let something like ‘we have no jurisdiction’ stop him, if he thought he had a chance of catching the bad guy.

 

Gibbs heaved a sigh. “I’m supposed to be retired.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his beard and mumbled, “Left so fast I never signed the papers.”

 

Tony’s heart beat faster. “You mean…”

 

“Technically I’m on medical leave. I figure it’s time I go and take the physical, and see that doc at Bethesda.”

 

“And a shrink,” Tony reminded him.

 

“Jesus,” Gibbs moaned. “Yeah, I’ll do that, too.”

 

“That means you’re coming back, like for real?” Tony asked, excited, rushing around to Gibbs’ side of the table to hug him.

 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gibbs said. “Don’t spill my coffee.”

 

“Stop drinking it! You’re going to be so wired your blood pressure will be through the roof.”

 

Gibbs replenished his coffee despite the warning. After taking a sip and making a satisfied sound, he said, “You know what the best thing is about coming back?”

 

“The sex? It’s gotta be the sex with me, right?”

 

Gibbs looked thoughtful. “Well, that’s certainly a perk. But I was thinking this coffee is the best I’ve tasted in months! Make sure you stock up on it, and bring some in to work, will ya?”

 

ooOoo

 

Ducky insisted on driving Gibbs to Bethseda while Tony went to NCIS to face the director. “Got a lunch date first,” Gibbs had said. Tony had immediately been both curious and jealous but Gibbs had explained, “Got summoned to see the SecNav.”

 

“Is that bad?” Tony had asked.

 

Gibbs had laughed and kissed him good-bye. “Nah, we’re old poker buddies.”

 

ooOoo

 

Director Shepard greeted Tony coolly, and called him Special Agent DiNozzo throughout their meeting. She never invited him to sit. It was a little off-putting but Tony maintained a professional demeanor throughout. He wasn’t going to play games, just wanted to make a final report about his undercover job.

 

Tony told the director that he and Jeanne had broken it off, that it was mutual. Jeanne’s old boyfriend had come back into her life. He insinuated that she was giving him a second chance.

 

Okay, that might not be entirely true, but a guy who had been emailing her had seemed pretty hot for her. He’d seen the emails from a jcars@aol.com, and it was apparent they’d once had a serious relationship. Tony was going to look into the guy, but whoever jcars was, he wasn’t in Jeanne’s phone book. He’d never dug deeper. Tony thought that now he was out of the picture, maybe Jeanne would look him up again. He hated thinking of her being unhappy, but he’d known, right from the start, it wasn’t going to end well.

 

All the wire taps and other electronic surveillance he’d set up were still in place. The GPS tags on the luggage belonging to la Grenouille’s associates were still working. McGee could monitor it all from his desk. If she wanted him to step down from heading the MCRT, he would, but Gibbs was going through the reevaluation process as they spoke, and that could take days, if not weeks, to complete. “He’d be here today, but he has a lunch with the SecNav,” Tony said, wanting to make it clear Gibbs wasn’t taking this lying down.

 

“I don’t want Dr. Benoit to know she was duped,” Shepard said. “Once her father is captured, it won’t matter.”

 

“Of course, Director. I wouldn’t jeopardize the op,” Tony assured her.

 

She told him to continue as lead of the MCRT for now, and dismissed him. As Tony shut the heavy office door behind him, he heard a muffled shout and the sound of something breaking. He couldn't help but smile.

 

ooOoo

 

Gibbs was busy cleaning out his house in preparation of putting it on the market, when FBI Agent Fornell came to him, asking for his help on a case. Gibbs put on a show of reluctance at tracking down a prison escapee they put away years ago, but in the end they helped the man prove his innocence.

 

Plus, as Gibbs told Tony once they were alone, he got to work with Tony and watch him take the lead, plus they went home together every night, and the sex was great. “What’s not to like?”

 

Director Shepard was still royally pissed about Tony dumping Jeanne Benoit, and messing up their chances, according to her, of capturing the Frog. She was even more angry when Gibbs turning up a few days later, as if he hadn’t been out of commission for months. His former supervisory position was restored. Secretary of the Navy Davenport had even walked in with Gibbs on his first day back, making it clear that nobody had better mess with his favorite special agent.

 

Gradually, Gibbs got back into the swing of things, and even though he was sometimes short-tempered, and occasionally stopped mid-sentence while he searched for a word, Tony could tell he was starting to feel more like his old self. He made it through an investigation of a Navy Lieutenant, a computer specialist, who was kidnapped while Tony was still at the helm, but when it was over, Gibbs commandeered his desk – and his supervisory special agent position – again.

 

Tony had talked it over with Gibbs the previous night. He had sat on the bathroom counter next to the sink and watched as Gibbs shaved off his beard, leaving only the mustache. “I think I need a break from being the boss,” Tony had said. “Besides, I know you’re itching to get back in the saddle again.”

 

Gibbs had admitted he missed the job, but he made sure that Tony was all right with him ousting him from his position as lead.

 

“Let’s face it, I could handle my own team,” Tony said, “but we both know the director will never approve of it. Things might improve sooner than we think.”

 

“This pass your approval?” asked Gibbs, stroking what was left of his facial hair.

 

“Not really a fan of the hairy upper lip,” Tony admitted, but after Gibbs nuzzled him behind his ear and tickled him with it, he agreed Gibbs could keep it for a while.

 

Not that Ziva and McGee ever caught on that it was all an act. Gibbs played it up by piling all of Tony’s possessions on his old desk, and making out like Tony had no say in the matter. It stung a bit when Tony’s teammates took swipes at him, making jokes about his demotion, but he took it all with a smile.

 

Before they went home, Gibbs reminded them that Tony had been the glue who’d held the MCRT together all the time he was away. “Special Agent DiNozzo has my thanks and respect for doing a fine job. You’ve always been my best agent, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs, looking Tony straight in the eye.

 

Tony beamed and blushed a bit, and was gratified that McGee came up to him and said he was sorry he’d given him a hard time. Ziva snorted and said nothing.

 

The odd thing was that within a week, Director Shepard offered Tony a promotion – and his own team – as a reward for his performance as team leader. The catch was that it was in Rota, Spain. Tony found an empty office where he could have a few minutes alone with Gibbs, and told him of the latest development. “Why would she do this now? Is she trying to get rid of me?”

 

Gibbs pointed out the SecNav might have suggested it to her, as he’d praised Tony to him when they’d had that lunch meeting. It was obvious Gibbs was suspicious of Shepard’s offer, but he asked, “You want to move to Spain, Tony?”

 

“Why, do you?” Tony countered.

 

“You know I’ll go anywhere you go,” Gibbs replied, taking Tony’s hand.

 

His cheeks heating up, Tony gripped Gibbs’ hand. “I thought that was my line.”

 

“Works both ways.”

 

“I love you, Jethro.”

 

“Love you, too, Tony.”

 

ooOoo

 


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

 

Tony told the director he wasn’t taking her up on her offer. Gibbs needed him, which was the truth. Tony had caught Gibbs staring into space a couple of times, and sometimes he’d get really bad headaches. He was really good at covering it up, but Tony knew him well enough to see the signs – being curter than usual, and a tell-tale tightness around his eyes. Of course Tony fussed until Gibbs took some meds and went off somewhere dark to close his eyes, while Tony covered for him. A couple of hours later he’d return and no-one would be any the wiser.

 

McGee continued to monitor all of the surveillance they had put in place, but there had been no sign of la Grenouille. On the assumption that the man was wealthy enough to afford more than one jet, he checked out ownership of every jet every registered, and uncovered a shell company that was registered to a medical association owned by la Grenouille’s ex-wife, Helen Berkley. Recently the G5 jet had mapped a trail across Europe and Africa, and some in-depth hacking into the security feeds of several airports netted McGee some grainy images of the Frog. They might know where the jet was at present, but that didn’t mean the arms dealer was aboard.

 

La Grenouille’s associates, the same ones Tony had followed a month ago when they’d arrived in DC, were seen with him in several of the airports. Gibbs pointed to one of the men now enlarged on the plasma screen. “Who’s that?”

 

Tony recognized him as the man who had questioned him when he’d handled the baggage. “I’ve seen him. I took photos of this guy and the others…”

 

Gibbs was glaring at him. “You get an ID?”

 

Tony shook his head. “I ran his photo against all agency watch lists, including the FBI, and I got nothing. The other two people seen in la Grenouille’s company over the past few months are Regine Smidt, who is a suspect in assassination of the chairman of Commerzbank in Munich, amongst other crimes, and Martin Quinn, an arms broker originally from Ireland who has ties to ELN in Colombia.”     

 

Ziva said, “I should contact my people at Mossad,” but Gibbs stopped her.

 

“No, we need to keep this in-house.” Gibbs ordered McGee to find out who the unidentified man was. McGee typed furiously, doing searches in various agencies’ watch lists. It took him a while, but finally he said excitedly, “I found him! Trent Kort. British. He’s on the FBI arm’s-dealer watch list.”        


“He wasn’t on it when I looked,” Tony said, puzzled.

 

“Maybe you did not look hard enough,” Ziva said.

  
McGee read, “British National. Believed to have recently joined la Grenouille. Uh, Boss, a flag just came up on one of my searches.”

 

Gibbs leaned over McGee’s shoulder and squinted at the screen. Tony joined him and asked, “The CIA is watching anyone who is watching the FBI’s watch list?” He looked up at Gibbs and mouthed the words, “Lodestone?”

 

McGee looked from Gibbs to Tony and asked, “Lodestone? What’s that?”

 

Gibbs expression was grim. “MTAC,” he said, pointing to Tony.

 

Tony said, “I’ll notify the director.”

 

A female voice behind him said, “No need, Agent DiNozzo.” Tony turned to find Director Shepard entering the bullpen. Gibbs led the way to MTAC, after making it clear to McGee and Ziva they weren’t invited. Once there, Shepard asked, “Did I hear you say Lodestone?”

 

Tony looked to Gibbs for an okay, and got a slight nod from his boss. He told Director Shepard that they ran an ID on one of la Grenouille’s known associates and their query was flagged by the CIA. “CIA… Operation Lodestone,” Tony said, weighing the two words with his hands. “I ran a deep search for that man, Trent Kort, a few weeks ago, and nothing came up. Now, all of a sudden his name is out there and it looks like he has a neat little back-story that someone like the Frog would believe.”

 

“So we figure Kort is undercover,” said Gibbs.

 

“What’s this Kort’s connection to…Lodestone, is it?” the director asked.

 

Tony met Gibbs’ eyes and said to the director, “Operation Lodestone is a CIA project that was proposed about twenty years ago, with the aim of choosing an arms dealer, making him the top dealer in the world, and so controlling the illegal arms trade worldwide. The CIA would arrange to give guns to whomever the US wanted to win any skirmish or territorial war, and would make sure they were inaccessible to whoever they wanted to lose.”

 

“Chess moves,” said Gibbs.

 

“If Kort is CIA, and he’s hanging around for months with the Frog…” said Tony.

 

“Then chances are he’s controlling la Grenouille,” finished Director Shepard.

 

“And protecting him,” Gibbs pointed out.

 

Shepard frowned at Tony. “And how is it you know so much about Lodestone, Special Agent DiNozzo?”

 

“I read all the inter-agency memos, and the CIA’s Arms Trade Report, ma’am,” said Tony. The director looked at him with skepticism, so he elaborated. “It’s no secret that weapons are routinely disseminated through covert and gray-market channels, funded by the CIA and their cocaine money. After all, the CIA supplied 3 million AK-47s to Afghanistani rebels so they could shoot the shit out of the Soviets back in the ‘80s.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Uh, yes, ma’am. My uncle’s cousin on my father’s side, Mario DiNozzo, he had this little business on Long Island called Coliseum Arms, and it went from an ‘I can’t even pay for my kid’s college’ income to a 50-million-dollar-a-year business after getting black-market contracts to produce rocket-propelled grenades. Nobody said any names or anything, ‘cause they weren’t stupid, but Mario jokes that it was the Feds who paid for his house down at the shore. Oh, and he named the RPG they made ‘the Lodestone.’ So I noticed the name Lodestone when I was reading a memo, and I… uh…looked into it.”

 

Gibbs asked, “Ya done, DiNozzo?”

 

Tony thought for a second and nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Except there wasn’t much to find on Lodestone. I hit a brick wall. So, what do we do about the Frog?”

 

Surprisingly, Director Shepard said, “Back off. For now. I don’t want to CIA on our doorstep.”

 

 

ooOoo

 

It was a month later that McGee announced that a new flight plan had been issued for the G5 jet that Tony had seen at Dulles when he encountered the Frog’s three associates. “I’ve been monitoring the luggage. A couple of the trackers have failed, but these two, which have been all over the world, apparently carried by two different people, are back in the same city right now. They are in fact at an airport in Frankfurt, and on the very plane Tony was watching a couple of months ago.”

 

“And the plane? De plane?” Tony asked, trying to tamp down his excitement.

 

“Jeanne Benoit received a text from an untraceable European-based phone last night. At first I thought it was some kind of code, but then I remembered I’d seen it before, in Tony’s notes,” McGee said.

 

Gibbs and Tony stood shoulder to shoulder, viewing the plasma as McGee brought the information up so they could all see it. Tony said, “NS-DK5,” before a picture of the jet came up.

 

McGee glanced at Tony. “Yeah, that’s the tail number.”

 

“And if you plug any tail number into Google, you can get flight details, service records, and even real-time tracking. Betcha didn’t know that, huh, Probie?” A light tap on his arm and Tony automatically said, “Sorry, Boss.” He looked sideways at Gibbs, and seeing the corner of his mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile made him break out in a grin. He didn’t even care that Ziva was looking at him funny. Things were back to normal, but better.

 

ooOoo

Life was good.

 

Or, it was until Mike Franks came to town on the trail of a Russian mobster named Arkady Kobach, and lied to everyone, including Gibbs, about what he was up to. By the time it was over, Kobach was dead, the whole team was pissed that Franks had used them and was getting off scott-free, and Tony was in the hospital with a concussion.

 

Gibbs held a plastic basin under Tony’s face and supported him as he vomited. A guy in a white coat, who looked more like a college kid who’d been up all night studying for finals than a doctor, entered the cubicle. The doctor glanced at Gibbs’ belt, where his badge and sidearm were within plain sight. Tony’s gun and badge were on a nearby rolling tray. Gibbs informed him they were NCIS agents, and the man introduced himself as Dr. Hoffman.

 

While he gave Tony a quick but thorough checkup, he asked, “You were initially hit in the head at what time?”

 

Tony, who wasn’t feeling up to answering any questions and wished they’d turn the overhead lights off, sent an appeal to Gibbs. Gibbs laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder and said, “Around noon. Probably a gun butt. Struck him there, over the ear.”

 

“Yes, I see it,” the doctor said, shining a light on the right side of Tony’s head and carefully parting his short hair. “You had attention at the scene?”

 

Gibbs confirmed a paramedic had checked Tony out at the time. He’d lost consciousness for no more than five minutes. Another agent who was working the protection detail with Tony was already at the scene and called it in. Tony had seemed fine when Gibbs had arrived. “He felt good enough to flirt with the emergency gal,” Gibbs complained.

 

The doctor took Tony’s pressure and listened to his heart, and asked him an array of questions.

 

“I remember arriving at Gibbs’ place. It was the safe house, right?” Tony said, looking to Gibbs for confirmation. Franks was smoking, he recalled. “Someone hit me from behind. I woke up, but didn’t puke. Dizzy for twenty minutes. Light sensitive for a couple of hours. Headache. Not the worst I’ve ever had. Can you turn the lights off?”

 

Dr. Hoffman flipped a switch to turn off the overhead lights, but left on a small lamp so he could continue the examination. He peered at Tony and asked, “How many concussions have you had?”

 

Tony hesitated and looked to Gibbs for the answer.

 

“Too many,” was Gibbs’ terse response.

 

“How many this year, then?” Dr. Hoffman persisted.

 

Tony muttered, “Two.”

 

At the same time, Gibbs said, “Three. That I know of.” He glared at Tony, who looked away.

 

“Okay, three. The third one was nothing but a love tap,” Tony allowed. “I didn’t even black out.”

 

Dr. Hoffman looked from Tony to Gibbs and back again. “Tell me about what occurred that made you come in tonight.”

 

Tony crossed his arms and refused to say.

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “He fainted.”  


“I did not!”

 

“Okay, you passed out.” To the doctor, Gibbs explained, “Around 1800, eight hours after he was hit on the head, he was leaving the office. I saw him head for the bathroom, found him puking. He said he was okay, went to wash up, and next thing, he’s on the floor, out cold.”

 

The doctor looked concerned. “How long was Agent DiNozzo unconscious that time?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes,” Gibbs said, sounding impatient.

 

Tony had opened his eyes to find he was prone on the bathroom floor at work, with Gibbs hovering over him, looking sick with worry. Gibbs’ suit jacket was folded under his head, which had ached so badly he had immediately shut his eyes again.

 

Dr. Hoffman looked through a clipboard of paperwork. “Paramedics say when you were being transported here, you were in and out of consciousness, combative–”

 

“I thought they were the Russians,” Tony explained.

 

After a beat the doc continued, “Uh huh…BP and heart rate were significantly higher than normal. Still somewhat high. I want to see if you have a fracture or bleeding, so some tests are in order…We will start with a CT.”

 

“No,” Tony moaned.

 

Gibbs squeezed his shoulder. “Tony,” he warned.

 

“When you’re released, you need no stress, no TV, stimulants or alcohol. Plenty of sleep, just relax. Your brain needs to rest and recover.”

 

Tony groaned. “Man…”

 

“You don’t want to end up in here again, do you?”

 

“No, sir,” Tony replied.

 

The doctor gave Gibbs instructions. “Pay attention to his symptoms: reaction to light, increased headache, vomiting, confusion, dizziness, fainting.”

 

“I didn’t faint,” Tony insisted.

 

Dr. Hoffman smiled. “Lost your balance, then. I’ll go set up the CT so we can get you out of here as soon as possible. Special Agent Gibbs, you’re in charge.”

 

Gibbs grunted. “Damn right I am.”

 

ooOoo

 

Luckily, there was no sign of any fracture, or bleeding on the brain, so Dr. Hoffman gave Tony a painkiller, by injection, and released him into Gibbs’ capable hands.

 

“I’ve got prospective buyers trooping through my house every day, Tony. You’ll be more comfortable in your own bed,” Gibbs said, as he drove Tony home.

 

“You’re coming to bed with me?” Tony asked hopefully.

 

Gibbs didn’t meet his eyes when he said, “I’ve got something to do first. McGee’ll be with you ‘til I get back.”

 

“Get back? What does that mean? It’s late,” Tony said, seeing it was after midnight by the dashboard clock. Something in Gibbs’ voice that told him he was up to no good.

 

Gibbs pulled up in front of Tony’s building, right behind McGee’s sedan. “Yeah, well, I want a word with Mike Franks,” he said in a dangerous tone of voice. All of a sudden, Gibbs hit the dashboard with the heel of his hand. “Damn it! I should have seen what he was up to. I ignored all the red flags, and he fucking used us, and then…” He looked at Tony, shaking his head. “He hurt you, and he isn’t going to get away with it.”

 

Tony held onto Gibbs’ forearm and pled, “That’s really nice of you, but don’t do anything stupid, okay? I want to bash in Franks’ face as much as you do, but… Just come back in one piece, please, Jethro.” McGee was approaching their car, so Tony gave Gibbs’s arm one last squeeze.

 

“I won’t be long,” Gibbs promised.

 

“No sudden trips to Mexico,” Tony said, trying not to sound too desperate.

 

“Nah, why would I want that? I’ve got you.”

 

“You’re so romantic,” Tony said, smiling.

 

“Out of the car.”

 

Tony did as he was told. He wished he could have given his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, but with McGee watching them, all he could do was wave as Gibbs drove off. He turned to McGee and put on a happy face. “Hey, Probie. You draw the short straw?”

 

“No, I’m glad to help out,” said McGee. “Abby wanted to come, but Gibbs thought she’d be too loud.”

 

Tony swayed a bit, and he had to hold onto McGee’s shoulder until he was steady, but he managed to walk to the front door without falling on his face. “I ever tell you, you’re a good man to have on my six, McGee?” He watched his friend’s cheeks color at the compliment, and patted him on the back.

 

When they got up to Tony’s condo, McGee asked, “You hungry?”

 

Actually, he was exhausted. Tony managed a small smile. He was so tired he could hardly find the strength to speak. Maybe it had something to do with the medication they’d given him before leaving the hospital. “Nah, just gonna turn the lights down low and stretch out on the couch for a while.”

 

McGee disappeared for a minute, and came back with a pillow, and a blanket he draped over Tony. “I’m glad you’re not hurt any worse.”

 

“Mmm, aren’t we all?”

 

Tony sighed and lay back, glad to be home. He heard McGee moving quietly about the kitchen, making himself something to eat, by the sound of it. Tony must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes, McGee was seated in a nearby upholstered chair, reading a book by the light of a floor lamp. Tony asked in a croaky voice, “Reading your own book, McNovelist?”

 

“Oh, no. It won’t be available for another couple of weeks. This is one of yours. _Beyond the Edge of the Sea_. It looks interesting, about Jason and the Argonauts, Vikings and other explorers of the ancient world. You enjoying it?”

 

Without thinking, Tony mumbled, “’s not my book. It’s Gibbs’.”

 

McGee said, “Oh.”

 

“Mmmm.” It took Tony a good couple of minutes to catch on that the book had been on the bedside table, on _Gibbs_ ’ side of the bed. McGee must have picked it up when he went in to fetch the pillow and blanket. Oh shit! Shit! Tony sat up so suddenly he almost fell off the couch, but McGee was there to push him back onto the cushions, telling him to take it easy. Tony stared at McGee, wondering how the hell was he supposed to take it easy when McGee had just seen their bedroom, and he must know, he _had_ to, that Gibbs slept with him.

 

McGee plumped up the pillow and made sure Tony was comfortable, never saying a word, and for once, Tony couldn't tell what he was thinking from his expression. Tony thanked McGee when he handed him a glass of water, and after he drank some, he cleared his throat. “Hey, you know what? That _is_ my book. I must be mixed up because of this concussion, all turned around and thinking crazy–”

 

McGee picked up the book and settled back in the comfortable chair. He looked straight at Tony and said, in a calm, soothing tone, “It’s okay.”

 

“Well, yeah, but…you see…”

 

“No, it’s okay, Tony. I know.”

 

“You know…”

 

McGee smiled. “I _know_.”

 

“You…know?” Tony replied, not sure how much he should read into his colleague’s simple declaration that he _knew_. Please do not let that mean what he thought it meant, that McGee _knew_.

 

With a slight shrug, McGee said, “It’s fine. Not a problem. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Horrified, Tony stared at the younger agent. “But…you can’t. I mean…Gibbs…Jesus, he’ll kill me,” Tony moaned.

 

McGee let out a huff of a laugh. “I sort of knew that you two were together already. It’s obvious you care for each other–”

 

“It’s more than that. We love each other,” Tony blurted. Shit, what was he thinking, admitting to this?

 

McGee’s face lit up in a big smile. “I saw you hug him, when he showed up at the office, after we thought he might have been blown up with Ziva. I kept out of the way, but you were grinning like an idiot, and I’ve gotta say, he was smiling in a way I’ve never ever seen before. I think you’d have had to be blind not to get the picture.” He snorted. “You guys think you’re so clever leaving in separate cars, and him being tough on you most of the time. But I could tell.”

 

A thought suddenly struck Tony, and he exclaimed, “Oh God, tell me Abby doesn’t know!”

 

“Hey, don’t get excited. She doesn’t know. Or at least she’s never said anything about it. Not even a hint.”

 

Tony relaxed, and after a while, he said, “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t do that. Now, could you please lie back and relax? Because when Gibbs gets back, if you’re all stressed out… he’ll get pissed at me.”

 

“Thanks, Tim.” Tony sighed and closed his eyes. “You’re a good friend.”

 

Tony next woke up what must have been hours later. Gibbs was saying goodbye to McGee. As soon as he was gone, Gibbs got a groggy Tony up to go to the bathroom, and then to bed. Tony was almost asleep when Gibbs slid into bed beside him and took him in his arms. He managed to ask, “You okay?”

 

“Yep.” Gibbs kissed him goodnight. “You feeling all right?”

 

“Not too bad. Tired. And Franks?”

 

“Not so good,” Gibbs said, with a touch of humor.

 

After a moment, Tony said, “Good,” and rolled over towards Gibbs, slinging an arm across his middle. A second later he was asleep.

 

ooOoo

 


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

 

“Hey, you got it!” Tony grabbed the first edition hardcover of _Deep Six_ out of McGee’s hands, and started to read aloud from the back cover. “‘The aftermath of one of his hair-raising investigations finds L.J. Tibbs right in the middle of an unspeakable crime that costs a young woman her life. Tibbs finds himself trapped in the underworld of a local crime syndicate that has a need to administer a terrifying revenge on the family members of a rival family.’”  
  
Ziva laughed and took the book from Tony. “‘But the revenge they seek is a two-edged sword, and the price is Tibbs' own sanity as he recklessly pursues his quarry in a chilling, double-twist climax…’ This sounds entertaining, McGee. But who is Thom E. Gemcity?”

 

McGee didn’t get a chance to reply as Tony took the book back and said, “Listen to this! ‘Maybe someday Lisa would find the courage to tell Agent Tommy about her dream – the two of them together, their bodies covered in sweat as they made love on the crystal white sands of her homeland.’ Why Lisa!” Tony batted his eyelashes at Ziva.

 

No longer finding the book amusing, Ziva turned on McGee and threatened, “I will kill you with a staple from your own book!”     

 

Tony was laughing at McGee’s alarmed expression, but his laughter died when he caught sight of one of their agents escorting a man being past the bullpen. It was Trent Kort, the last person he expected to show his face at NCIS. It looked like they were headed towards a conference room. “Whoa…”

 

Ziva put the book down and followed Tony’s gaze. “Isn’t that…?”

 

Tony reached for the phone and dialed Director Shepard. “Director? Trent Kort is in the building. Yeah, that’s the one. They didn’t? I’ll get right on it.” He hung up and swore under his breath as he dialed Gibbs. He told McGee and Ziva, “The CIA said they wanted to talk to the Director, but they didn’t say who they were sending over. Where’s Gibbs? He isn’t answering.”

 

Gibbs appeared at that moment, walking past the bullpen in the wake of Trent Kort. He signaled for Tony to join him. A minute later they were in a conference room with Kort and Director Shepard, and two security officers, one of whom was frisking Kort.

 

Kort cast a sour look at Director Shepard but nobody spoke until she had dismissed the guards and told them to wait outside the door.

 

After the briefest of introductions, they all took seats, except for Gibbs. Kort got down to business. “I’m here to tell you and your people to lay off your junior detective work. As far as la Grenouille is concerned, he is off limits.”

 

Director Shepard faced Kort with an innocent expression. “As you probably know, we have no official interest into the Frog’s illegal activities, but I can assure you, Mr. Kort, that should he cross NCIS’s path, we _will_ investigate. We are very good at what we do, and my agents are committed to do everything in their power to bring the man to justice.”

 

Kort laughed derisively. “Madam, I know all about your personal interest in la Grenouille, but it’s small potatoes compared to the CIA’s investment in him. This is an order, and it comes from the top: You keep away from la Grenouille or you will be stopped and silenced.”

 

Tony couldn't believe Kort was issuing a blatant threat, and apparently, neither could Dir. Shepard. She said in a deceptively soft tone, “Is that a threat, Mr. Kort?”

 

“If that’s what it needs to be. We have spent years cultivating la Grenouille, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you and your little agency mess it up. The stakes are far higher than you can imagine; the fate of countries, governments, rests in our hands.”

 

“Because your agency wants to keep a tight control over the flow of weapons?” Shepard asked with a snort. “You just love the power, don’t you, Kort? You don’t care who gets hurt, how many millions of lives your ruin by your machinations…”

 

“Like your father was ruined, you mean? I remember Col. Shepard. A stubborn old man,” Kort said.

 

“You know nothing about my father! He was a good man and a patriot,” Shepard shot back.

 

“Such a shame his name was dragged through the mud,” Kort taunted.

 

“The only person being dragged through the mud is you, Kort. I checked up on you, Funny how you got kicked out of the CIA and got reinstated. Amazingly poor judgment on their part, taking you back, but now they know you’re expendable, I’ll just bet you get some dangerous assignments.”

 

It was fascinating to watch Director Shepard sparring with Trent Kort, and she certainly held her own, but just as the insults and threats turned into petty squabbling, and Tony was beginning to wonder if he should do something, Gibbs intervened. He took hold of Kort’s upper arm, pulled him out of his chair, and marched the struggling man to the door. “Got your message, messenger boy. Time for you to leave,” Gibbs said, with a sarcastic drawl that was intended to get under Kort’s skin.

 

Kort wrestled with Gibbs, but couldn't extricate himself from Gibbs’ grip. “You think you’re so clever, Gibbs? Well, you’re not. Sending your pretty boy there after Miss Benoit’s pussy didn’t go over so well, did it?” He looked Tony up and down and sneered, “You’d have had more luck cozying up to my associate, Martin Quinn. You know who I’m talking about, right? He likes boys, eats them up and spits them out. I think we need to properly introduce you to each other.”

 

Tony lunged at Kort, shouting, “Hey!”

 

Gibbs intervened before Tony could lay a hand on Kort. He slammed the bald man face-first against the wall and stuck three fingers hard in his lower back until he squealed. Gibbs said in a low, dangerous voice, “You touch any of my people, go within a mile of any of them, even _think_ about them, and I’ll rip out your eyeballs.” Kort tried to bluff his way out of it, but it was evident that he was shaken.

 

Shepard ordered, “Remove this man. I want him out of the building.”

 

“Gladly.” Gibbs, accompanied by the two security officers, hustled the CIA operative down the hallway.

 

Tony could hear Kort calling back over his shoulder, “I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect my asset!”

 

“Move your ass,” was Gibbs’ response.

 

After he’d taken a couple of deep breaths, Tony looked at Director Shepard and quipped, “Well, that was fun!”

 

Shepard shook her head. “If you poke an ant hill…”

 

“Oh yeah,” Tony agreed. He waited for the director to exit the room and walked with her along the corridor.

 

The director gave Tony a crooked little smile. “I have to say, seeing Jethro angry like that, strong-arming that little prick out of the building… Well, it’s quite a sight.”

 

Tony agreed, “Especially now he’s shaved off that mustache.”

 

ooOoo

 

Tony knocked on Jeanne’s door with trepidation. He was surprised she answered; she had a peep hole and he knew she always used it.

 

Jeanne appeared more determined than angry, but she didn’t say anything, which set him off-balance. After he said, “Hi, Jeanne,” and she said, “Tony,” their conversation came to a standstill. All of a sudden they both started talking at the same time.

 

He said, “Look, I should have–.”

 

She said, “I don’t understand what you–.”

 

And then, just as abruptly, they stopped.

 

After a second, Tony launched into an apology, eager to get it all out. “I never meant to hurt you. I want you to know that. You’re… hell, you’re so beautiful, and smart, and funny, and I count myself lucky that you would even look at me twice, and when you actually went out with me, nobody could have been happier or more surprised. I care for you, a lot, Jeanne, but. . . it’s not going to work out between us. I think I’ve known for a while that you’re not the one for me, and I’m not the one for you, either, and… are you angry with me?”

 

Tony was horrified to see Jeanne’s bottom lip trembling. He knew that if she started to cry, he’d be doing the same within seconds.

 

Jeanne surprised him though, raising her chin and nodding as if she agreed with him. “You’re right. You don’t deserve me. You were never serious about a relationship. You know, I had this feeling that if I mentioned we should move in together, you’d run for the exit. You’re not ready for that kind of commitment.” She was like a train gaining momentum, her words coming faster and louder. “I mean, look at that room you rent! The dirty socks, and the basketball in the bathroom, and…and the gross old slices of pizza lying around. Who lives like that? How old are you, anyway? It’s like you needed a mother, not a girlfriend! And your job? You’re not even a real professor, with students you can see and connect with.” Now she sounded angry and Tony took a step back.

 

Jeanne continued, “You sit in your dirty little apartment and teach classes remotely! How could I ever think you were capable of acting like an adult and making adult decisions? And now I find out you prefer _men_? How did I not see that? I must have been delusional! I’m just glad I found out before it went any further.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I am _so_ happy I didn’t give you my heart because you’d have stomped all over it, and you’re a stupid shit, Tony DiNardo, and I hope your… your _boyfriend_ dumps you before you hurt him, too, and that you feel even a _fraction_ of the pain I’m feeling right now. Whoever he is, you don’t deserve him.”

 

Before Tony could say anything in response, Jeanne slammed the door in his face.

 

ooOoo

Gibbs asked, “You okay?”

 

Tony shrugged. They were in bed but he couldn't sleep. He had only told Gibbs the bare bones of his scene with Jeanne. He couldn't talk about it, but it kept replaying in his mind.

 

Gibbs sighed. “You know she was talking to the undercover you, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Tony started to get out of bed, but Gibbs pulled him back.

 

“When the job is over…walk away,” Gibbs said softly.

 

“It’s not that easy,” Tony whispered.

 

Gibbs hugged Tony and rubbed his hand up and down his back. “Okay, what was the worst thing she said?”

 

“Where do I start?” Tony said with a little laugh. He kept his eyes fixed on Gibbs’ chest, unable to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed and felt as though he’d not only failed with Jeanne, but was destined to mess up what he had with Gibbs.

 

“Let me guess. She wondered what she ever saw in you, insulted the way you live, and told you to grow up.”

 

Tony looked up quickly, meeting Gibbs’ eyes. “How’d you…?”

 

Gibbs chuckled. “You don’t think I heard the same things before every divorce I went through?”

 

“At least she didn’t have a golf club in her hands,” Tony said.

 

“You gotta be careful not to get a woman mad at you,” Gibbs said. “Easy to do and damned hard to make it right.”

 

Tony sighed and laid his head on Gibbs’ chest.

 

After a while Gibbs said, “Okay, what aren’t you telling me?”

 

Tony shook his head.

 

“C’mon, this is your one chance to get my advice on break-ups.”

 

“She said… She said she hopes my boyfriend dumps me, and that I’ll feel her pain,” Tony said in a small voice.

 

Gibbs grunted. He stroked Tony’s hair and kissed him. “Yeah, well, that’s one wish that’ll never come true.”

 

“I love you, Jethro.”

 

“I love you right back. Now go to sleep, Tony.”

 

ooOoo

 

He had seen the gleam in Director Shepard’s eye when she’d found out that la Grenouille was bidding for ARES, and that NCIS finally had a chance to nab him.

 

All along, Tony had suspected that the director’s interest in la Grenouille was bordering on obsessive, but now it was confirmed. They’d been a second away from shooting the Frog’s brains out when she had given the command to halt. He was surprised she’d backed down when her quarry was within her sights – technically within the crosshairs of Ziva’s sniper rifle. He’d been Ziva’s spotter, lying prone next to her on the rooftop while watching the players on the tarmac. Ducky was way too vulnerable out there, and that fucker, Kort, was acting as the Frog’s second-in-command. Tony had felt the Ziva’s tension heighten a notch as the window of opportunity to take out la Grenouille grew smaller by the second. And then, just when he’d thought she was going to shoot without getting a kill order, the director had shouted through the comm for them to abort.

 

By the time Tony and Ziva had come down from their perch, the director was on the phone, talking in terse tones with the SecNav. She had snapped the phone shut and exhaled in frustration. The CIA, it turned out, had too much invested in la Grenouille and didn’t want anyone taking him out, not yet. SecNav ordered Director Shepard to leave la Grenouille alone; he was not to be touched. The director was told by someone very high up in the chain of command to drop all surveillance immediately.

 

Ducky exclaimed, “He knew my name!”

 

“Kort is CIA, Ducky,” Tony told him.

 

“So was Harrow,” Ziva pointed out.

       
McGee said in disgust, “It was a sting. I’m going to pack our equipment up. Tony? Give me a hand?”       


Gibbs didn’t seem to care. “We got stung. Let’s get out of here, everyone.” He took the sniper rifle from Ziva, broke it down and put it back in its case. He went to help McGee and Tony load their gear on their plane, so they could get the hell out of Canada.

 

“No. We got screwed,” the director said, glaring at the jet that was just taking off at the end of the runway.

 

“You should have let me take the shot,” Ziva said, seething.

 

Director Shepard met Ziva’s eyes, and although the roar of the jet covered their conversation, Tony could read lips well enough to know she replied, _‘Next time just do it.’_

 

ooOoo

 

The Lear jet Director Shepard had somehow commandeered sped down the short runway at the Aéroporte de Sherbrooke. It took off at a steep incline that had its passengers gripping the arms of their seats. Not Gibbs though. He appeared as relaxed as he if he was sitting in an easy chair at home. His team, along with Dr. Mallard and Director Shepard, filled the twelve-seat jet to capacity. Their weapons, and the ton of NCIS surveillance equipment they had hauled all the way to Canada, crammed the spare seats as well as the narrow aisle. When Gibbs wanted coffee, they had to create a human chain in order to pass the hot beverage from the miniscule kitchenette all the way to Gibbs, who was seated at the rear.

 

Tony slumped in a very comfortable seat across the aisle from Gibbs and tried to catch up on his sleep. McGee was in front of him, hunched over his laptop, avidly watching something on the screen. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tony peeked over the seat and saw a flight control map with hundreds of tiny specks moving across it, looking like slow-moving ants scattering in all directions. “Is that a game?” he asked, even though he knew it wasn’t.

 

McGee never took his eyes off the screen. “No, it’s Nav Canada,” he said, keeping his voice down, as if it were a secret. “I’m tracking la Grenouille’s jet.”

 

“Isn’t that the CIA’s job?” Tony asked, leaning forward. He craned his neck so he could see better. One of the ants on the screen was lit a bright red, no doubt the Frog’s jet. They were carrying the highly classified weapons tracking system that Ducky had handed over in exchange for a bagful of diamonds. Little did they know, it had a Trojan horse installed in it. Anyone who tried to use it would unknowingly be targeting their own defense systems. Tony asked, “Are you trying to earn brownie points?”

 

McGee looked in the direction of Director Shepard, who was seated up front. “Orders,” he said.

 

Tony wasn’t surprised. The director was so obsessed with catching la Grenouille he shouldn’t be surprised that she was still keeping tabs on him. At the front of the cabin, Shepard was having a private conversation with Ziva, their heads close together. Even from a distance, Tony could tell the director was tense with barely contained anger. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could tell they were two were cooking up something. He was fascinated by their body language. Ziva was punctuating her words with sharp hand gestures while Shepard tossed back a glass of some amber-colored liquid.

 

For the first time since they’d boarded the jet, Gibbs spoke, only loud enough to reach Tony and McGee’s ears. “Rule 14,” he said, then sipped his coffee.

 

McGee turned around, puzzled. “Never date a co-worker?”

 

Tony chuckled. “Bend the line, don’t break it.”

 

“What line?”

 

“He means don’t hack into the CIA, McHacker, otherwise Abby’ll have to bake a file into a cake when she visits you in prison.”

 

“Oh no, I’m circumnavigating the CIA. NavCanada is wide open, so is access to European air control. You know, someone should do something about these airport navigation systems. They’re way too easy to get into,” McGee said, shaking his head.

 

“Keep me posted,” Gibbs said sternly.

 

McGee nodded. Both he and Tony knew enough to report straight to Gibbs, even if the director insisted she was the boss.

 

Tony settled back in his seat. He could see Ducky snoozing in the seat across from McGee. The mustache that was part of his disguise had come unglued and was slightly askew. He’d done pretty well, considering he hadn’t done any undercover work in years. There was a rumor the ME had been on some sort of mission with Gibbs, years ago, and had pushed a French policeman off a cliff. Ducky had fled with Gibbs, and Jenny Shepard had stolen a boat in which they’d escaped across the channel. That was long before she had risen to the position of director, of course.

 

The flight back to DC was only a couple of hours, just enough time to get some shut-eye. Before he fell asleep, Tony thought how he’d have to talk to Gibbs soon about their plans for the future. They still hadn’t made any decision about whether to stay with NCIS or to leave. Apart from the madness of pursuing the Frog, their work had been pretty routine of late. Tony was concerned that Dir. Shepard was going to make things difficult for him because of the way he’d handled the undercover assignment with Jeanne Benoit, and that his future at NCIS DC was uncertain. He had questioned the director and had refused to continue duping Jeanne, which he had maintained was a waste of time. Plus he was now sleeping with his immediate boss. Not that she knew about that. It would be a disaster if she did. Shepard had always felt she and Gibbs had strong ties, due to their affair while on assignment some years earlier. She sometimes acted like she owned him, and if she got any wind that Tony’s friendship with Gibbs had gone over the line, he’d certainly be fired.

 

The good news was that a couple who had looked at Gibbs’ house once already wanted to see it again, so his realtor was expecting it would sell soon. They were going to look at property around Newburg on their next day off. It was just over an hour south of DC and they both liked the area. Tony had been searching online and he and Gibbs agreed that an older property that needed to be fixed up would suit them both, so long as it had a big shed suitable for boatbuilding. “And a good kitchen. And a great bathroom. And…” Tony had told Jethro, half-teasing.

 

ooOoo

 

After NCIS’s little Frog-hunt in Canada, the director of the CIA called a meeting with SecNav to tell him off for allowing his people to mess with a long-term CIA operation. The SecNav, who didn’t like anyone pushing him around, made it clear that if NCIS got the chance to nab la Grenouille for his part in the theft of the Navy’s cruise missile targeting system, they would damn well do so.

 

Unfortunately for both agencies, la Grenouille fell off the radar. From the chatter NCIS intercepted, it appeared that the CIA had lost sight of their arms dealer. It was obvious the CIA was going to be sweating until he was found, alive or dead. There was some intel about la Grenouille wanting to terminate his relationship with the CIA, and that he wanted to get out of the arms business altogether. Gibbs and Tony had discussed it, and believed it to be true.

 

Kort was also staying off the radar, and nobody seemed to know if he was still working for the CIA or had turned rogue. All sort of rumors were floating around, such as the one where la Grenouille was said to be hiding out in Brazil where he was now dealing in prized emeralds. Another rumor hinted that he’d brazenly opened a casino in Greece called O Vátrachos (The Frog), and yet another said that he was living at a retreat on a secret Caribbean island. Naturally there was a big office pool with everyone betting on whether the Frog would turn up alive and well, or would be found face-down in the river.

 

OoOoo

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

 

One day, without warning, McGee stood up at his desk and proclaimed, “I got him! I mean we’ve got him! Here! In DC!”

 

Nobody had to ask who he was talking about. McGee quickly transferred the information to the plasma and Gibbs and his team gathered around. “La Grenouille arrived in DC this morning, on his own boat.”

 

“Oooh, that’s a big one,” Tony exclaimed. “190 feet of sleek, French-made yacht. Boss, is it true that the size of your boat correlates with the size of your–?”

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs no longer head-slapped Tony, but he sure came close at that moment.

 

“Sorry, Boss,” Tony said, cringing out of habit. “Okay, where is this located?”

 

McGee said it was docked at the Bayside Marina, and on board was one of the suitcases that Tony had attached a GPS marker to, months earlier.

 

Gibbs asked, “Who does the bag belong to?”

 

McGee said, according to Tony’s log, it was a leather satchel style bag.

 

“Shit, that’s Kort’s bag,” Tony said. He pointed at a blip on the screen. “Look, it’s moving! Where’s it going?”

 

At that moment, there was a ping from McGee’s computer. “That’s from Jeanne Benoit’s phone. I wrote a search program to let us know when she got a call from certain numbers.”

 

Tony stared in disbelief at McGee’s screen. “He phoned his daughter. It finally happened.”

 

“McGee, I want to know what the Frog said to her,” Gibbs ordered.

 

“The suitcase is moving steadily…must be in a car. Heading east out of the marina,” McGee reported. Picking up his headphones, he listened to the surveillance recording of Jeanne’s phone call. “La Grenouille, I mean Ms. Benoit’s father, is picking her up… at Monroe University Hospital for lunch. He said he hasn’t seen her in a long time.”

 

Gibbs called Director Shepard to meet him in MTAC, and Tony, McGee and Ziva joined them.

 

“I want satellite,” Gibbs ordered.

 

“I can patch into DC's traffic-cam system. See if we can locate him on the traffic-cam management,” suggested McGee.

 

“Do it,” said Gibbs.

 

They got visual set up, using traffic and security cams set up around the city, and were able to pick up a limousine McGee found registered to la Grenouille’s shell company. “Got them!”

 

Traffic was slow, as it usually was around midday, and it took a good thirty minutes for the limo to reach the hospital. It stayed in place for another ten, and then headed east.

 

“I’ll monitor the cell phone coming from the limo,” Tony said. McGee protested but Tony reminded him he spoke French. Dir. Shepard stopped any squabbling before it began and indicated that Tony take a console. He sat down and after a few minutes, relayed, “La Grenouille just called a restaurant just off New York Ave. NW. La Poule Noir. Un bon restaurant. Nice place. Small but expensive. It’ll take them twenty minutes to get there. What’s the plan, Boss?”

 

“We wait until they come out of the restaurant. It’s too busy to go barging in there,” Gibbs said.

 

Shepard countered, “We need to move in now! We can’t risk losing him, Agent Gibbs.”

 

“It is a small restaurant,” reasoned Ziva. “We should go in heavy. Collateral damage will be low.” Both Gibbs and McGee turned to stare at the Israeli, and she shrugged, as if catching civilians in the crossfire was of no consequence.

 

Tony, who was too busy to pay any attention to Ziva, raised a finger. “La Grenouille just called the marina. He asked about the tides. It sounds like he’s taking Jeanne back there. They’re not going to the restaurant. Change of plans!”

 

“Is he leaving the country?” asked McGee.

 

“He didn’t say,” Tony said.

 

“I want everyone on him, now!” Director Shepard ordered. “Ziva, you’re with me.”

 

Gibbs turned on her. “Hey! I’m the lead on this operation, Director, and I’ll remind you that you have next to no experience with tactical. Trust me on this.”

 

“Don’t even start with me about trust, Jethro!”

 

Gibbs focused on one of the screens that showed harbor activity along the Potomac, and asked the tech seated there to get him the information he needed on the tides. “Tide’s almost out now. They won’t ship out for hours.”

 

“So, you want us to gear up and ambush them at the marina?” Tony asked. He hated the thought of arresting Jeanne’s father in front of her, but getting la Grenouille was a priority.

 

They talked about possible plans, McGee noting that Trent Kort was the only other person in the limo, apart from the Frog’s daughter. “And the driver,” Tony said. They brought up an aerial of the marina where la Grenouille’s yacht was docked. Tony worried about Jeanne getting caught in crossfire. They formulated a plan of attack and called Balboa to notify him they needed his team for support.

 

As they wrapped up their plans, Gibbs suddenly stood up and looked around MTAC. For a moment, Tony wondered what he was looking for, and then he noticed they were two people short. “Where’d the director go?”

 

“And Ziva?” asked McGee.

 

Gibbs met Tony’s eyes and Tony shook his head. “No, no, they wouldn’t be so stupid.”

 

“Wouldn't they?” Gibbs replied angrily. “Damn it!”

 

They hurried to the bullpen while Tony called the front gate to stop them. “Boss,” he called to Gibbs, still holding the line. “The director’s car hasn’t left the Navy Yard. They haven’t seen her.”

 

Gibbs asked, “And Ziva’s?”

 

Tony asked the guard at the gate, but he shook his head and informed Gibbs, “No, it’s still here.”

 

Meanwhile, McGee checked the log of company vehicles that had been signed out. All were accounted for. “I know Ziva. She would have taken an older model car that isn’t equipped with GPS, but these days they all…” His eyes lit up. “Tony, your Mustang!”

 

Tony checked his backpack and discovered his clip of keys was missing. “God dammit! They stole my car!”

 

“Grab your gear,” Gibbs said, sweeping past Tony and McGee. “McGee, bring that gizmo to keep track of the limo.”

 

“But Gibbs, the director stole my Mustang!”

 

Gibbs drove, with Tony in the front seat, and McGee in the back where he kept an eye on the limo’s movements, following the GPS tracker. They had to fight traffic to get close, but they soon spotted Tony’s car ahead of them. They couldn't tell who was driving the Mustang, but they suspected it was Ziva, from the erratic lane-changes it was making. It was following the limo, a block behind it, and Gibbs groused about how they were being too obvious.

 

McGee suggested, “We could run them off the road.”

 

Tony looked askance at him. “You’re not talking about us ramming the director and Ziva, I hope. That’s my car, you know.”

 

Gibbs got on his phone and barked orders to Balboa’s team. “You’ve got ten minutes to get set up at the marina before the Frog gets there!” Instead of tailing Tony’s Mustang, since they knew where la Grenouille was heading, Gibbs peeled off onto a side street, and stepped on the gas. Tony and McGee hung on, praying that they didn’t all die in a fiery crash.

 

They got to the marina about five minutes ahead of the limo carrying la Grenouille, Kort and Jeanne. Balboa’s team pulled up in two vans, the six men he’d brought wearing tactical gear. They parked their vehicles behind a warehouse, and Gibbs gave orders for everyone to position themselves out of sight.

 

Tony hoped that Ziva was delayed, or got lost, because last thing they needed was Director Shepard to arrive and confront la Grenouille out in the open. Gibbs pulled body armor out of the trunk and he, Tony and McGee hurriedly put it on. They positioned themselves behind a couple of buildings situated near the entrance to the pier, weapons drawn. Tony could see la Grenouille’s boat, gleaming in the sunlight, in its slip about fifty yards away. Although it was a beautiful bright day, there was hardly anyone about, just a couple of men working on their boats a good distance away.

 

They had barely got in position when the limo pulled up. The driver and Kort were out of the car almost immediately. They both surveyed the area like pros but they didn’t see anything amiss, and Kort quickly ushered la Grenouille through the marina gate and down the pier to his boat. Gibbs signaled for Balboa’s team to take control of the driver, who was waiting for Jeanne to finish up a phone call, it appeared. He looked into the car, apparently telling her to hurry up.

 

Just as Balboa and two of his men surrounded the driver, Tony’s Mustang came barreling through the parking lot and rammed into the back of the limo. Gibbs was shouting into his comm. not to shoot at Ziva and Shepard, but the rest of Balboa’s agents moved in, keeping their guns trained on the sole occupant of the limo while forcing the Frog’s driver onto the ground.

 

NCIS agents were yelling at the driver, and at Jeanne, and next thing they knew, Ziva was out of the Mustang, gun drawn and getting into the mix. Tony heard Jeanne, still in the limo, scream, and he wanted to run over to help, but Gibbs grabbed his arm. “They’ve got it! We have to secure the others.” Gibbs motioned for Tony and McGee to keep low and follow his lead. They jogged down the pier, and climbed a ladder onto la Grenouille’s yacht. Tony figured that if la Grenouille and Kort had to be deaf if they hadn’t heard the commotion – but neither of them stuck their head out.

 

Starting at the bow, they slowly navigated the huge boat, clearing every stateroom, lounge and galley along the way. Inside the boat, it was quiet, but suddenly they heard the pop-pop-pop of gunfire. Determined to get the Frog, and mindful that Trent Kort was a threat, Gibbs took his time searching the yacht, with McGee and Tony watching his back. They were below decks, one level down, when a door slammed open and a man raced along the narrow corridor, away from them. Tony took a shot, and blood sprayed across the wall, but the man – it had to be Kort – was up a ladder and on deck before he could shoot at him again.

 

Tony scrambled up the ladder after Kort, knowing Gibbs and McGee were right on his heels. They made it to the top deck just in time to see Kort pulling a missile launcher from a storage locker, arm it and fire towards the shore. With a streak of flames, the missile screeched towards the NCIS agents clustered around the parked cars on shore. Gibbs and Tony both shot Kort at the same time, and the CIA agent fell overboard, hitting the dark water below with a big splash. There was a huge explosion in the parking lot, and Tony saw his car, his beloved Mustang, explode with a horrific ripping sound. He jumped off the boat and ran up the pier, feeling the heat of the fireball burning his face. Gibbs was shouting at him from behind, but all he could think of was that Ziva and the director had been in that car.

 

There were bits of burning metal strewn across the parking lot, and several agents were down, one with his jacket on fire. Tony dragged him away from the burning wreck, aided by someone – he didn’t see who – and quickly smothered the flames. A woman was wailing, an agent lay unconscious twenty feet away from the burning car, another had singed hair and a stood around with a dazed expression. Those who had survived helped the wounded. The sound of sirens was getting closer.

 

Tony spotted an agent leading Jeanne away from the burning car, and he ran up to her. She stared at him as if she didn’t know who he was, but he told the agent he’d take care of her. Her legs shook so he found her a place to sit, out of the way, and quickly checked her out for injuries; he didn’t find any.

 

Gibbs and McGee hurried by, guns drawn, along with two of the unharmed agents. McGee looked his way, but moved on. They were going back to the boat, Tony realized, to finish off what they’d come to do.

 

“My father,” Jeanne said, rising from her seat. “What have they done to my father?”

 

“He’s being arrested,” Tony said. “For arms trafficking.” He held onto Jeanne to prevent her from going anywhere; it was still dangerous. Ziva was shouting something at a couple of agents, over by the burning car. She’d survived! Several squad cars arrived, and behind them, fire trucks and an ambulance. They wouldn’t come any closer until the scene had been secured. Tony realized he hadn’t seen the director, and his eyes swept the chaotic scene, looking for her small figure, her red hair.

 

Ziva turned and spotted Tony, and she stalked over, looking fierce, her eyes bright. “Tony, where is Gibbs?” she demanded, ignoring Jeanne.

 

“He took a detail back to the boat.” She started to leave but he caught her arm. “Ziva, the director… Jenny?” He already knew from the look in her eyes. “No…”

 

“Yes, she is dead,” said Ziva, and slipped out of Tony’s grasp.

 

He watched the scene unfold, the agents surrounding the yacht, a police boat coming up from behind, men boarding. Gibbs and McGee must have already been on board. Ziva pushed people out of the way and climbed up the ladder and quickly disappeared from sight. It seemed ages before anything happened, and then there was a single gunshot. He heard a moan, and turned to look at Jeanne. He’d almost forgotten she was there. Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, but Tony felt numb. He couldn't find it in himself to comfort her.

 

Someone from the emergency services came over with a blanket and draped it over Jeanne’s shoulders. It was a middle-aged man wearing an EMT jacket; he seemed to know her from the hospital, and it was only when he got her to her feet and started to walk her to a waiting ambulance, Tony finally woke up. He took Jeanne’s other arm – she looked like she was going to faint – and when they got to a triage area set up beyond the wreck of the car, he called over a cop to keep an eye on her.

 

Jeanne turned and looked at Tony with so much hate in her eyes that he was taken aback. “You killed my father,” she accused.

 

Tony just walked away.

 

An hour later, he stood beside Gibbs and McGee on the end of the dock, watching the Coast Guard assist in recovering two bodies. One was Kort, with two holes in his chest and another in his head, the other René Benoit, code name la Grenouille. Gibbs looked grim, but he said to Tony and McGee, “Good job.”

 

ooOoo

 

Tony found out later that Ziva had taken the shot that killed the Frog. She said the arms dealer had brandished a weapon and she had feared for her life. Even though they sent in divers to look for the arms dealer’s missing gun on the muddy bottom, no weapon was ever found.

 

It took hours to get the whole thing sorted out, to get another team to work the scene, for statements to be written up back at the office. Tony and Gibbs got home around three in the morning. They showered together, holding each other as the hot water rained down on their bodies. They crawled into bed and slept in each other’s arms, taking comfort in simply being physically close.

 

There was an internal investigation in which everything they’d done in pursuit of la Grenouille was closely examined. Worse than that, they had to face scrutiny by a CIA investigative team, and he and Gibbs were interrogated about Kort’s death. It took weeks, but luckily, it was all kept hush-hush as neither agency wanted to air their dirty laundry in public. Tony provided the Inspector General with a copy of the records he had kept throughout the entire la Grenouille operation, and he was sure it made a difference in the outcome.

 

Although Ziva was not brought up on charges, she was reprimanded for killing la Grenouille. She was hard-headed and did not hesitate to say she was glad the man was dead.

 

Director Shepard’s funeral was private, attended only by a select few colleagues and a half-dozen NCIS brass. Ziva left the second it was over and they didn’t see her again for two weeks. She never mentioned where she went, and Tony didn’t ask.

 

Two NCIS agents had been killed in the RPG explosion, both young and dedicated men with families. Tony felt horribly guilty about their deaths, even if he knew he wasn’t directly responsible for them. Those wounded would recover, and he made a point of visiting them in the hospital until they were released.

 

Deputy Director Craig from the San Diego office was chosen to take over Jenny Shepard’s job until they decided what to do about replacing her. Craig was given the task of overseeing all investigations and keeping the solve rate up, a task made all the more difficult because they were a team down. He kept phoning Gibbs for advice, but after the first few calls, Gibbs automatically handed his phone to Tony and told him to take care of it.

 

Meanwhile, Gibbs’ team was put on administrative leave, so he and Tony took the opportunity to go house hunting. “It’ll take our mind off everything, right?” Tony said hopefully. It didn’t, entirely, but locating just the right property, one that would suit them both and be within their price range, kept the men occupied.

 

ooOoo

 

The moment they saw it, they knew they’d found their new home. It was a 1938 Cape Cod style house, full of character, with a dock and boat lift and, best of all, a huge workshop with more than enough space for Gibbs to build a boat. It was located in Newburg, only an hour south of Washington.

 

There was a good amount of river frontage and the screened-in porch on the second floor offered stunning views of the Potomac. It sat on enough acreage to ensure neighbors wouldn’t be looking in the windows, but not so much they’d feel isolated. Of course there was a lot to do both inside and out, but Gibbs liked its bones, and Tony loved the cottage feel to it. They put an offer on the property that day, and it was accepted that night. Tony had the money for the down payment, and within a few days, they got good news about Gibbs’ house, which was on the market. A married couple who had shown interest in buying it got approval for a mortgage and made an offer. Gibbs accepted countered and they accepted it.

 

Tony and Gibbs celebrated with dinner, drinks and dancing, all at Tony’s condo. After a wild session of sex that started in the kitchen and ended up on the couch, Tony handed Gibbs a beer and settled next to him. “I’m going to put this place on the market tomorrow.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. With its history it’ll be hard to find a buyer. I mean in the general public. I bet someone in law enforcement won’t care. It’s a great location, and it’s beautiful, and someone is bound to love it.”

 

It took a while to sell, but Tony found a buyer in a Naval Lieutenant, whose wife worked at the city morgue and didn’t care that there had been a grisly triple homicide there ten years earlier.

 

ooOoo

 


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

 

Gibbs, it turned out, had a sailboat docked at a marina near Alexandria. _Taking Time_ was her name, and she was a 22-foot, all wood Amigo cruiser. “I built her before I met you,” Gibbs said. “The only boat with a name that had no ties to anyone I know.”

 

Gibbs took Tony sailing along the coast for a 3-day weekend, and getting away did them both a lot of good. Tony noticed Gibbs was starting to put a little bit of weight back on his lean frame, and told him he looked sexy. Gibbs blushed a little and told Tony he looked beautiful wearing only a tan.

 

“Guess it’s back to the old grind on Monday,” Tony said, sidling up to Gibbs, who was at the helm. He hugged him around he waist and kissed his sunburned neck. He liked lazing around in the sun and making love to Gibbs whenever he felt like it, but he was starting to look forward to a good murder investigation.

 

Gibbs said, a bit too casually, “We don’t have to go back.”

 

Tony laughed it off. “Well yeah, we do. They’re giving us our badges back and everything.”

 

“We could keep on sailing…”

 

Tony leaned to one side to look at Gibbs’ face. “You’re serious,” he said, surprised.

 

With a shrug, Gibbs said, “There’s an opening in a Southwest regional office. In Lemoore.”

 

“Okay, stop the boat! You want to leave DC? Where’s Lemoore, anyway?”

 

“California.”

 

Tony looked at Gibbs with narrowed eyes. “Where, exactly?”

 

“Near Fresno.”

 

“That’s…in the middle of nowhere? It’s flat? It’s desert…isn’t it? What the hell is an NCIS office doing there?”

 

Gibbs smiled at Tony’s barrage of questions. “It’s at the Naval Air Station,” he said patiently. “A buddy of mine is retiring. He says it’s a good post. He’s head of the command, makes all his own decisions.”

 

“How many men has he got under his command, anyway?”

 

“Two.”

 

“Two? And himself?”

 

“Nope, just the two of them. Him and his partner, who is going agent afloat soon. It’s a big territory to cover.”

 

“Jethro Gibbs, have you got sunstroke or something? Why would you want to go there?”

 

Gibbs turned towards Tony, keeping one hand on the wheel, and slipped his arm around his waist. “Like I said, it’s a big territory.”

 

“And?”

 

Gibbs smirked. “And there are perks.”

 

Tony asked slowly, “And… what perks are those?”

 

“For starters, we get our own helicopter, and a pilot.”

 

After Tony got over the excitement of getting a job in which he’d fly around in a helicopter, just like Magnum, the two men sat down to work out the pros and cons of leaving NCIS in DC.

 

“We just bought our first house together,” said Gibbs. “I’m really looking forward to starting a new boat out in that workshop.”

 

“Deputy Director Craig is nice enough but they’re going to replace him, for sure. Who knows what kind of director we’ll end up with. Probably some hardass whose goal is to make all the NCIS employees into robots,” Tony pointed out glumly.

 

Gibbs nodded. “You haven’t met my dad yet. Stillwater’s only two and a half hours away from DC.”

 

“You have a father?” Tony asked. “You told us he was dead!”

 

Gibbs shrugged.

 

“I want to meet your dad! I can’t believe you never mentioned him.”

 

“We had a falling out.”

 

“When?”

 

“Long enough ago I don’t remember when exactly.”

 

Tony understood not wanting to talk about fathers; his own dad was a selfish bastard. Still, he had to warn Gibbs. “You haven’t met my father, either, but if we stay in DC, he’s likely to turn up one day.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

“Proably. I know you’ll hate him.”

 

“Tony!”

 

“Believe me, you’ll get it when you meet him,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

 

Gibbs sighed and took Tony in his arms. “Tell you what. Let’s settle into our new home. Take things easy for a while. We can talk about this again at a later date. There’s no rush.”

 

“We’ll just hang on… to each other…”

 

“We’ll hang on ‘til the tide turns.”

 

“I love you, Jethro.”

 

“And I love you, Tony, more every day.”

ooOoo

 

 

**EPILOG**

 

Tony never regretted killing Trent Kort. He did, however, regret Jenny Shepard’s death, and wondered what kind of director she might have been, had she not been driven by her need for revenge. He heard Jeanne Benoit got married, but her husband, who turned out to be a Metro detective he’d met a couple of times, was killed in the line of duty soon after. She became a doctor with a relief agency and within a year died in Africa, of ebola.

 

Ziva left NCIS without notice within a month of her reinstatement. She sent Abby postcards from all over the world: Nigeria, Iraq, Somalia, Guatemala. They theorized she was either a mercenary or a peace worker. She never married but had a long-term relationship with an Israeli she’d known since childhood. Tony hoped she had found happiness with him.

 

They got a surprise one day when Ziva appeared at their home in Newburg. She said she was just passing by. They all sat on the porch drinking lemonade and talked over old times. Tony had to carry the conversation as Gibbs spent most of the time staring into his beer, as if it held some answer that eluded him. As the sun started to set, Ziva stood abruptly, saying she had to go. She hugged both of them tightly, and whispered in Tony’s ear, “I always knew.” After she’d gone, Tony commented he thought she looked ill, and Gibbs said something must be troubling her. Later they heard she went back to Israel and then got lost at sea off Africa while traveling on a cargo ship, but the details were sketchy.

 

Jimmy Palmer gradually took over Ducky’s work as ME, as Ducky spent more and more time taking European wine tours. Tony told Jimmy about his relationship with Gibbs; Gibbs took Ducky aside and told him he loved Tony. Neither man seemed too surprised.

 

Abby found out about their relationship the night she took Tony out for his birthday, drinking and dancing. They were pretty drunk, but Tony had the sense to call Gibbs to pick them up. Gibbs drove all the way from Newburg, and was fuming by the time he got there. He stood in front of the club and told Tony off for having too much to drink, and for worrying him, and then he grabbed Tony and kissed him hard and told him to damn well get in the truck. Abby climbed in beside him, so they were three abreast. They whole way to Abby’s apartment, she stared at them with huge eyes. When Gibbs escorted her to her door, he said she may as well know he loved Tony, and he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to him. Abby hugged him while jumping up and down, and swore she’d never tell a soul. Within a week everyone at NCIS had heard the news, but neither Tony nor Gibbs cared.

 

Tony and Gibbs stayed at NCIS in Washington for a few years, but when that post in Lemoore, on the Naval base, became available again, they took it. They worked there for six years and became known for their badass partnership and perfect solve rate.

 

Soon after Gibbs and Tony took the job in Lemoore, McGee and Abby moved to Monterey. McGee took a job at the NCIS there, and Abby worked at the aquarium and became an advocate for sea life. She invented innovative ways to stop pollution of the ocean and won many awards for her efforts.

 

It was only a one-hour flight by chopper between the two towns, so they got together as often as the job allowed. Tony got his helicopter pilot’s license, but every time he took the controls Gibbs professed he was scared to fly with him. Tony would tell him to stop being such a wuss and they’d bicker until Gibbs finally got into the helicopter.

 

Tim and Abby got married on a beautiful northern California beach with Tony and Gibbs as their only guests. They went on to have five kids, all named after chemical elements: Magnesium (Maggie), Calcium (Cal), Beryllium (Beryl), and the twins Nitrogen (Nitro) and Neon (Neo).

 

After leaving NCIS Lemoore, Gibbs retired, and he and Tony returned to their house on the Potomac. They’d only visited it occasionally while working in California, but they’d always intended to retire there. It was good to be home.

 

Tony accepted the director’s seat in DC, but he only remained at NCIS for another two years. It wasn’t the same, working without Gibbs, he said, when he handed in his resignation. Tony spent his non-retirement, as he called it, writing books about a variety of subjects, including history, a Civil War guide for kids, and a best-seller entitled _How to Live Like James Bond on a Government Salary._ Gibbs taught boatbuilding workshops for extravagant amounts of money.

 

Tony got to know Gibbs’ dad, and loved him more than anything. They always spent a few weeks together in the summer, plus visited around Thanksgiving and Christmas. Gibbs still had a fractious relationship with his father, but as the years wore on, they forgot whatever had started their animosity.

 

The day that Gibbs finally met Tony’s father, Gibbs turned to Tony and said, “You’re right, I just want to punch him in the face.” Needless to say, Gibbs and Senior kept their distance from then on.

 

Gibbs never regained all his memories of his past, but he could never forget his first wife and his child, nor the pain of their passing. He learned that grief had its place and time, and that it was okay to feel intense sadness sweep over you when you least expected it. If Tony saw he was down, he’d leave him alone for a while, and then he’d come out to the workshop and take him upstairs to bed, where they’d make sweet, sweet love, and sleep entwined in each other’s arms. They were married down by the river one warm spring afternoon, after being together for almost twenty years, with their closest friends as witnesses. They spent their honeymoon sailing on Gibbs’ latest sailboat, named _The Tide Will Turn._

 

ooOoo

**the end**

 

I hope you enjoyed this story! Of course I love to hear what you thought of it.


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